Broken
by aMUSEment345
Summary: Reid's time in prison broke all of their hearts. Did it also break the man? Set just after season 12, with spoilers for the same. Follows immediately upon the 'Red Light' post-ep story, 'Identity'.
1. Chapter 1

_**A.N. Follows immediately upon 'Identity' my post-ep story to the season 12 finale, 'Red Light'. That story stayed (mostly) true to canon. This story, being written during hiatus, will only be in canon in the unlikely circumstance that I have become clairvoyant.**_

* * *

 _ **Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 1**_

By late afternoon, Reid had dismissed Anderson. There was no longer any discernible threat to either himself or his mother and, now that the nurse had arrived, Reid was comfortable she wouldn't wander off undiscovered. He'd thought to ask Anderson to drop him off to pick up his car, when he realized he had no idea where it was. He'd left it at the airport when he'd flown to Mexico, and knew JJ had retrieved it for him since…but he'd no idea where she'd left it, and it hadn't come up in conversation before she'd gone off with the team. She hadn't responded to the texts he'd sent earlier, so he'd tried Garcia instead.

CAN'T REACH JJ. EVERYTHING OKAY? DOES SHE HAVE MY CAR? MY KEYS?

A minute later, he'd received a reply.

ON MY WAY.

It was unlike Garcia to text instead of call, especially when it was to only one of them. But the oddity of it paled in comparison with the current state of the rest of his life, so he dismissed it. He assumed she was bringing his keys, and would transport him to his vehicle. Then he could check on the status of his apartment, to determine its suitability for his mother. He knew what a freshly-processed crime scene could look like, and assumed he'd have a fair amount of cleaning up to do before he could even think about bringing his mother home. And beyond the cleaning up, there was the issue of what might have actually taken place there, and what Diana would remember, and how she would react.

 _One hurdle at a time._

Without Anderson to alert him, Reid situated himself near the window in Rossi's front study, brightly lit in the afternoon sun. A short stack of newspapers reminded him that it might start to matter again what was going on in the rest of the world. For the past three months, the entirety of _his_ world had been defined by the concrete walls and barbed wire of Milburn. Without a future, and with a past that had no longer mattered, he'd lived in an interminable present. Without freedom or choice, there had been no point in thinking further.

Now, back in the world, he thought maybe he should become reacquainted with it. He picked up the top paper and scanned the front page. Political unrest. War. Poverty. Oppression. Disaster. Tragedy. Crime. Some of the names and places had changed, but the content hadn't. The world was still a dangerous place to live. Maybe even more dangerous than prison.

He hadn't the heart for reading beyond the headlines. The paper fell to his lap, and he simply sat, and stared out the window, too tired to think, too tired to feel, too tired to do anything but to continue to sit, and stare.

In time, he caught movement in the distance, and watched as Garcia pulled slowly up the driveway, stopping beneath the large portico. Reid got up to meet her at the door, opening it before she had a chance to ring the bell.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, caught off guard.

"Hi." Then he got a better look at her face, and the residual wetness of her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

Garcia shuffled past him, into the foyer. "I have news…. _bad_ news…well, not the worst, but….bad. And I didn't want to tell you on the phone, you know, after…everything."

 _I didn't think you could bear even one thing more. And here, I am, with six!_

If nothing else, prison had steeled Reid for 'the next bad thing'. So he stood straight, and looked her in the eye, and waited for it to come at him.

"Tell me."

She took a few seconds to steady her voice, and then started.

"You know how Morgan got that fake text that was supposed to be from me, and they all knew right away it must be from Mr. Scratch. They assumed there would be a trap, so they planned to have SWAT meet them there. But…."

Reid misunderstood. "It _was_ a trap? Did Scratch hurt them?" Anxiety already creeping in.

"I don't _know_ if there was a trap. They never even got there. Well, technically, I guess it means there _was_ a trap, but it wasn't at the cabin. It happened on the way. SWAT went to the cabin without them, and it was empty."

Both alarmed and confused, Reid begged for clarity. "Garcia, _what_ happened to them? Where? What kind of trap?"

"They had an accident. Well, not an accident, really, because it was on purpose. But that's what they call it, right? When you lose control of your car, and…"

"Garcia….."

"Oh, sorry, I'm just so upset, and I didn't want to upset you, but I can see that I have. I….oh, all right…"

She told him what the state police had reported back to the FBI. They hadn't found the hard evidence, but the tires of both SUVs had become shredded, as though they'd been driven over 'stop sticks'.

"Are you saying they went off the road? _Who_ , Garcia? Who was in the SUV that went off the road?"

"They _all_ were! It happened to _both_ of them, and then the truck, and oh, my God, I can't believe they weren't all killed!"

"What truck? Are they all right? Were any of them hurt?"

"All I know is that they were taken to different hospitals, and Emily is in surgery."

His heart caught at the name. _Emily!_

"Where is she? Where are the rest? Can you take me there?"

Not waiting for her reply, Reid was already headed off to tell Roy, adrenalin having brought his brain back from fatigue, if not his body. He would have to leave, immediately. At least Diana would be looked after while he was gone, for however long that might be.

"I'll text you when I know where I'll be. Can you stay until…"

Reid knew it was likely a replacement had been planned for the overnight. But he didn't want his mother trying to connect with another new person in his absence.

"No worries, Dr. Reid. I always pack for overnight, just in case. You never know when someone will have to call out. I'll just call and let them know they won't need to replace me for now."

Reid smiled his appreciation. "Thanks."

As he headed back down to the foyer, he heard Roy call after him, "Godspeed to your friends!"

* * *

Garcia glanced over at the figure in her passenger seat. He'd tried texting JJ three more times, but she'd still not responded. Now he sat, silent and stony-faced, unresponsive to all of her attempts at conversation.

The most they'd been able to find out from the Virginia State Police had been that six passengers in two SUVs had suffered injuries. Five had been transported to local hospitals, while the sixth had been airlifted to the trauma center at Inova Fairfax. There were parts of a third vehicle, apparently a truck, strewn along a short stretch of road adjacent to the accident scene, but no sign of the truck. With their new understanding that this had likely not been an accident, the police had issued a BOLO for the presumed make and model of the truck, looking for significant front end damage.

"I have my laptop in the car. As soon as we're set up at Inova, I'll be able to track the others down. It's got to be good news that they were all able to be treated at local hospitals, right? Probably just a few cuts or bruises." When he didn't respond, she added, "Please tell me it means just cuts and bruises."

Reid wasn't actually ignoring her. He hadn't even _heard_ her. He couldn't focus enough on a single thought long enough to process it.

 _Team. Accident. Hurt. Emily. Surgery. JJ. Rossi. Tara. Luke. Stephen. Emily. Surgery. JJ. Scratch._

Part of him realized how addled he'd become, how off balance since the events in Mexico, and then prison, and then the near loss of his mother to the machinations of Cat Adams. _Part_ of him realized it, and longed for the power his brain might once have brought to this situation. The rest of him was still mired in a quicksand of turmoil, bombarded by one emotion after another, after another, in a rapid fire that made it difficult to even name them.

 _What good am I? I can't even help myself! How can I help them?!_

Fearful of not being enough, of letting the others down when they most needed him.

 _I can't do this. Please, don't make me do this!_

Begging whatever power was in charge of the universe to let this cup pass. He'd already swallowed enough misery in the past four months. Any more, and it would poison him, surely. Neither his will, nor his mind, nor his body, would withstand the assault.

Reid closed his eyes for the remainder of the trip, fantasizing the possibility of waking into an alternate reality, where his life was still intact, _and_ his team…. _and_ Emily. Reality intruded when he felt Garcia slow the vehicle, and turn off the engine, and he opened his eyes to see the 'Emergency' sign in front of them. Once inside, they were directed upstairs, to the Surgery waiting room, where they found Mateo Cruz pacing as he spoke into a cell phone. He saw them and raised a finger to indicate he'd be off in a moment.

Once his call was ended, Cruz approached the two uninjured members of the BAU team.

"Spencer, I'm glad to see you."

Reid shook the hand offered to him. "Thank you. What can you tell us?"

Looking on, Garcia wondered if either of the two men remembered that Reid's status with the FBI was in limbo. Regardless, she wasn't about to remind them right now.

Cruz made eye contact with both of them as he reported what he'd been told.

"They were en route to the address Scratch had given Morgan as the location for the safe house where you were supposedly taking your mother."

Reid nodded impatiently, waiting to hear something he didn't already know.

"They were traveling in caravan, and something shredded their tires. They each went into a spin, but managed to avoid each other. It looked like the worst that would happen was that they wouldn't be able to meet SWAT at the address. But then a truck came out of nowhere and T-boned the SUV carrying Prentiss, Rossi and Lewis."

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Penelope. "What happened to Emily? Were the others hurt, too?"

The section chief tried to calm the technical analyst. "Lewis is a little banged up, cuts and bruises, but otherwise all right. Rossi is still being evaluated. Prentiss…. she took the brunt of it. She was critical at the scene, so they airlifted her here. She's got internal bleeding, but they aren't sure where it's coming from. They took her to surgery almost immediately. So far, the report is that they're keeping her stable, but I'm waiting for a nurse to give me another update."

Both relieved and not, Reid had to ask, "What about the other vehicle?"

The one with his so far non-responsive best friend in it.

"The truck hit the driver's front fender and spun them off the road. They rolled a few times down the embankment."

Reid couldn't quite bring himself to ask the next question, but Cruz told them anyway.

"So far, all three seem to be in one piece, apart from concussions. They should be released soon."

Reid closed his eyes in thanksgiving. At least this one thing had been granted him.

Garcia babbled nervously. "I tried to call Morgan. I thought, maybe, if his flight had been delayed, or something, but…."

Reid stopped her with a hand on her arm. "He's better off at home. He can't do anything here, but he _can_ take care of Hank, and Savannah. Besides, this isn't his job anymore."

 _I'm not even sure if it's_ my _job anymore._

"I know, I just thought…."

"I know, I get it. And yes, he'll want to know. Let's just wait until we have something to tell him."

Like Morgan, and Garcia, and Rossi, Reid had already lived through the loss of Emily Prentiss once before. He could only hope that none of them would have to suffer like that again. But it was out of their hands, now. No need to put Morgan through the worry until they knew more. With Emily on the operating table, there would be no pleading for her to 'hold on' or 'hang in there'. Her fate was in the hands of the doctors, and the hands of whatever power might be out there, or not. Maybe her fate was in the hands of fate.

Reid turned to Cruz. "Have the families been notified?"

Cruz waggled his hand back and forth. "Some of them. Ambassador Prentiss is apparently traveling. And JJ's husband hasn't answered his phone. We think he might be on shift. But we've reached Rossi's daughter, and Walker's wife. And it turns out that Alvez only listed a first name as his next-of-kin, and no phone number."

Neither man could help staring at Penelope Garcia, whose features suffered through a succession of convolutions at Cruz' words, from confusion, to understanding, to shock, finally landing on tragic.

"Oh, my God, the name is 'Roxy', isn't it? That's the name on his form? That's who he listed as his next of kin? Roxy?"

The section chief eyed her uncertainly. "Yes. Is that his wife? Do you have a number for her?"

Garcia sank to the plastic-covered bench, dejected. "That's so lonely! That's even more lonely than…"

She stopped, remembering her present company, and the loneliness so recently housed within. Reid used the interval of silence to inform his superior.

"Roxy is his dog. They served together in the army, and he's had her for a long time. As far as I know, he isn't married. And I'm sorry to say that I don't know anything else about his personal life."

Having been in prison for much of Alvez' tenure with the team.

Cruz laid a hand on Reid's shoulder. "That's understandable, considering. Listen, I'm going to stay here until there's word on Agent Prentiss, and I could use some tech support, if Ms. Garcia can stay with me."

Ms. Garcia nodded her assent, and started pulling her laptop out of its bag, as Cruz continued, looking to Reid.

"But I think we'll need to debrief the others. Are you up for it?"

Garcia opened her mouth to remind Cruz that Reid had been freed fewer than 24 hours ago, not to mention that his status with the FBI was cloudy at best. But she closed it again at a look from her friend, one that told her that he wasn't about to abandon his colleagues when they'd all just been traumatized, no matter his situation.

"I'll go. I just need a way to get there."

"My driver's downstairs. He'll bring you over, and I'll send a second vehicle as well, to bring everyone to their homes. Doesn't sound like anyone will be driving any time soon."

A vibration sounded from the phone in his pocket, and Cruz pulled the device out to read the screen.

"Ah, okay. Text from Rossi. Guess he passed muster, then. Hmm… they're all being released…..Oh."

Both Reid and Garcia tried not to become alarmed at the raised brow on Cruz' face. Before they could ask, their section chief explained.

"They're all being released except for JJ. They want to repeat her CT scan."

Garcia turned panicked eyes to her boy wonder. "What does that mean?"

To Reid, it felt like he was trying desperately to swim up from the depths, trying to get his brain back into working order. He shook his head violently trying to get his thought processes back into gear.

"I don't know. It's her head?" Directing the question to Cruz.

"He doesn't say. But I think she only had a concussion. I _thought_ she only had a concussion."

"Reid, what does it _mean_?" Garcia, so recently recovered from the return of her beloved genius, wasn't sure her heart could withstand another tragedy.

His brain now fully adrenalized, Reid thought he knew what it _might_ mean. And more than one thing about it worried him.

"Where is she? Which hospital? There's no other level one trauma center in that part of the state!"

"She's at Reston. That's not a trauma hospital?"

"It's a level two. She needs a level one! We have to get her moved!"

Concerned at the level of emotion coming from the younger man, Cruz began to wonder at the wisdom of Reid's being involved with the case.

"Spencer, maybe it's too soon for you. Why don't you go and get some rest. I'll find someone else to do the interviews."

"NO!"

Shocked by the volume of his own voice, Reid closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and did his best to gather himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried. I'll be fine…please…let me help." _They're_ _my_ _friends_.

Cruz considered the request, and the man before him, for a long moment. Truth be told, _he_ was worried about JJ as well, especially if Reid was. And they would need their best mind on this….

"All right. But I'll still have my driver bring you. I don't want you behind the wheel tonight."

Reid could do nothing but agree. "All right. Thank you."

"And, Spencer….if you think she needs to be moved, you let me know. I'll make it happen."

Reid nodded his thanks, and made to leave, but was stopped by Garcia grabbing his arm.

"I need you to tell me. C'mon, if you don't, I'll just come up with a whole boatload of terrible things to worry about. Please tell me what you think is wrong with her, so I can worry about the _right_ thing!"

Reid swallowed back his own concern as he prepared to help her target hers.

"When someone's had head trauma, they repeat the CT scan when they're worried about bleeding in or on the brain."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A.N. This chapter borrows specifically from the last chapter of the post-ep story, 'Identity'.**_

* * *

 _ **Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 2**_

"She's getting her scan right now."

Rossi didn't even wait for Reid to ask. The look on the young man's face had said all that needed to be said.

"Why are they doing another one? Was she not alert? Was she disoriented? Were there any focal findings?"

Then stopping short, as he realized. He hadn't even asked about how any of the rest were before he'd started shooting questions at Rossi...despite the fact that they were all standing right there. Although his conscious thoughts were firing too rapidly to achieve focus, Reid sensed some other part of his brain start to take inventory of the state of the others, entirely of its own accord. They were all present and accounted for. No one looked too badly hurt. Still…

"Sorry. Are _you_ okay? Cruz said you were still being evaluated."

Rossi's response was full of righteous indignation.

"Hmphh. Apparently, I'm considered a high risk patient, because of my… _ahem_ … age. So they double- and triple- checked me."

It would have been amusing, in almost any other situation but this one. So Reid simply asked, "And?"

"And I checked out fine. A couple of bruises, but only to my arms and chest. The airbag deployed."

Luke Alvez, wearing a bandage across his forehead, chimed in.

"So did ours. It probably saved our lives, because we were thrown around pretty good. Too bad the side bag didn't deploy. It might have kept Prentiss from being so badly hurt."

Tara Lewis moved into the circle of agents. "What's the news on her? Anything?"

Reid shook his head. "She was still in surgery when I left. But Cruz said they'd reported her as stable."

He was glad to have taken up Cruz' offer…. _order_ , really….to be driven over. He could barely remember anything of the trip, his mind having been too busy conjuring one frightening mental image after another. It had become well-practiced, during his stay at Milburn. Now it seemed to come naturally.

He still didn't have the answer to the question most pressing to him.

"What happened to JJ? Why are they worried about her?"

Lewis answered, having best understood what the doctors had told them.

"She has a skull fracture."

Alvez interjected, trying to be helpful. "They said it was protocol."

Reid shook his head, already disbelieving. "It's not protocol to do serial CT scans unless…" Looking to Tara again. "Where's the fracture?"

The psychologist knew he'd landed on it. She nodded. "It's her left temporal bone."

Alarmed at Reid's reaction, Rossi spoke up. "What is it? Luke is right, they really did say it was protocol. Are you saying it's serious?" Then, hearing his own words, he added, "I mean, not that a skull fracture isn't. But I _saw_ her. She looked okay."

Reid hadn't even heard him, having launched immediately into an internal dialogue.

 _A temporal fracture! What if... We have to get her out of here! I have to get her out of here!_

Rossi caught the unwarrantedly frightened look on Reid's face and took him by the elbow, leading him to a seat.

"She was awake and talking. Really, Spencer, I think they're just doing this out of an abundance of caution."

The younger man shook his head. "You don't understand. It can be dangerous!"

"How?"

Reid's index finger went to his own temple. "There's an artery, right here, the middle meningeal. If she had bad enough trauma to fracture the bone, it might have gotten the artery, too."

"But wouldn't that have happened right away?" asked Luke. "Like Rossi said, she was awake and talking. She even helped me undo my seat belt."

Tara knew the answer to that one. "It can be a sudden rupture, or it can be a slow leak, if the artery was just nicked." Directing her next words to Reid, she added, "The others are right, Spencer. They're probably only being cautious. I don't think there's any need for worry. After all, most temporal injuries aren't associated with bleeding at all, right?"

She _was_ right, but Reid's brain couldn't acknowledge it. It was too busy conjuring one dreadful scenario after another, and irrationally assigning him blame. He lashed out at Fate.

 _If you want someone, take me! Not another person that I love. I'm the one you're out to get!_

The mental outburst was interrupted by the voice of Stephen Walker. He'd held himself at the outside of their little circle, until now, and hadn't yet spoken to Reid.

"I think it's my fault."

"You…..what?"

"I'm sorry. I had my tablet out, Garcia was sending us a satellite photo of the cabin. It…I lost my grip on it when we rolled. It was the only unsecured thing in the vehicle. I'm sorry."

Offering his apology to the group, though he was looking at Reid as he spoke.

Rossi saw a look of anger flash across Reid's features, before the young man won the battle for control. Even if it had been reflexive, its few seconds' duration made the senior profiler uncomfortable. It was unlike Reid to react that way. Still concerned, Rossi made the response for all of them.

"You don't own this, Stephen. You weren't in control of the situation. This belongs to Scratch."

Tara followed with, "And remember, we don't even Know that this is something bad yet. She could be fine."

"She's right," agreed Rossi. "Let's not make something of it, if it's not. We should think good thoughts for both of them, JJ and Emily."

In theory, Reid agreed with him. But, it was _JJ_. His best friend. The one who'd given him something to hold on to for the past four months. The one to whom he'd clung, in the moment of his release. The one who'd sustained him in his battle of wits with Cat Adams. _JJ._

"She can't…"

He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud, until Rossi signaled the others to give them some time alone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…."

Reid was hunched forward, elbows on knees, and Rossi had to twist his body to make eye contact.

"She was there for you, I know. Now you get to be _here,_ for her. But she'll be fine. Don't get worked up over it."

Reid flashed Rossi a look. "You don't understand. She's too close to me. It's not safe to be close to me."

 _Look at what happened to my mother. Look at what happened to Nadie. Look at what happened to Maeve._

Rossi leaned back, sighing, and praying for wisdom. Whether or not it had arrived, he needed to respond. This time he spoke to the back of Reid's head.

"Spencer, you're not thinking clearly."

That brought a snort. "Tell me something I don't know."

Rossi sighed. "All right, so it's not news. But it's a good thing that you realize it, right?"

The sincerity in Rossi's voice squelched the sarcasm rising in Reid.

"How is that a good thing?" Really wanting to know.

"It's a good thing, because you're smart enough not to make any rash decisions. Right?"

 _Like going after Scratch on your own._ Rossi had been tempted himself. Scratch had cost him a very long friendship.

This time, Reid turned around to look at his senior colleague.

"I _can't_ think clearly. I'm reactive. I almost…." _I almost choked Cat Adams to death._

"Almost what?"

Reid shook his head. It was bad enough JJ had kept the secret, though he'd blessed her for it. He didn't need to put Rossi in a bad situation as well.

Not thinking clearly also meant not having a ready answer for questions such as Rossi's. But Reid was saved from his dilemma when they were approached by a resident. The young woman addressed her remarks to Rossi, with whom she'd spoken earlier.

"Agent Jareau is back in her room, if you'd like to see her. There's been no bleeding so far. But the neurosurgeon wants us to keep her overnight, and repeat the scan in the morning. If there's still no bleeding, she'll be good to go."

Rossi thanked the doctor and turned again to Reid. "Did you hear that? She's fine."

Reid wasn't about to argue with his older friend, so he simply nodded. But his thoughts went elsewhere, despite his best intentions.

 _She's not 'fine'! If she was fine, they'd let her go tonight. They're worried something could still go wrong, and if my luck holds up, it will._

Rossi walked over to tell the others, just as they received notice that their FBI transports had arrived. Nearly all of them were under doctor's orders to rest, so it was decided that they would say their goodbyes to JJ, and leave. Which was when Reid remembered the 'official' reason he'd been sent there.

"I'm supposed to debrief you. But I don't think…"

Alvez interjected, "Have you been reinstated already?"

Rossi stepped into the conversation. Especially after their brief conversation, he feared it could be quite a while before Reid was reinstated.

"I'm the only one without a concussion. Go figure. The old guy's in the best shape." Gaining smiles from all but one of his companions, he continued. "I'll go and meet with Cruz at the hospital, and he can debrief me directly. The rest of you, go home and sleep. And wake yourselves up every two hours."

"Ha. You don't have to tell me twice, brother, I'm all in," said Alvez.

"I don't know," said Stephen, "I feel like I should stay. I heard what you said about it not being my fault, but shouldn't someone be here?"

"I'm not leaving," announced Reid, who'd come to join the group. "Rossi's right. The rest of you are injured. Go home and rest, and I'll stay with JJ."

"All night?"

"Unless Will can be reached. I don't want her to be alone."

 _I know too much about being alone._

Rossi took stock of Reid's posture of determination, and decided to go along.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll make sure Matt sends a car for you in the morning. For _both_ of you."

With that, Reid followed the others through the hallways to JJ's room. He waited outside until it was only Rossi left at her bedside. He was assuring her that he would let her know about Emily when the senior profiler caught a look of surprise on her face, and turned around to confirm the reason.

"Yes, Spencer's here. He'll stay with you until your husband gets here, or until you're discharged, whichever comes first."

JJ looked past Rossi. "Spence, what are you doing here? You should be with your mother. I'm fine!"

Her argument would have been more convincing, had she not several times winced in pain from the pounding in her head.

Reid walked around to the side of the bed not occupied by Rossi.

"My mother is with her nurse, at Rossi's. Roy agreed to stay the night with her, so she wouldn't have to make another adjustment without me being around. I'm more concerned with how _you_ are. Your head hurts, doesn't it?"

"I have a concussion. Of _course_ my head hurts."

"Well, this is at least your second concussion. And I was responsible for the first one. It's the least I can do, to stay with you."

"It's my third, actually. Fourth, counting…well." _Counting that explosion in Afghanistan that I don't like to think about._ "I was a soccer player, remember?"

She'd inadvertently just given Reid something new to worry about. He may not have been processing his thoughts properly, or tempering his emotions, but his encyclopedic brain was still offering him a steady diet of factual information.

"All the more reason you shouldn't be alone. Hopefully, it will just be for the night, and then you can go home to the boys, and I'll rescue Rossi from my mother."

Trying to make light of his concern.

Rossi saw that she was about to protest again, and intervened.

"I think it's a decent plan. Not to mention this is one argument I don't think you're going to win. I'll stop by and see Cruz, and then I'll go home and make sure the house is in one piece." At looks from both Reid and JJ, he added, "Only kidding. Seriously, young lady, you rest like the doctors tell you. And, _Doctor_ , you rest, too. There's a nice chair for you to stretch out in over there. We'll get you both home in the morning."

He bent over the bed and gave JJ a peck on the top of her head, patted Reid on the shoulder, and was gone.

That left JJ and Reid staring at one another, a look of wry resignation on each of their faces.

"We sure are a pair, aren't we?" She broke through the extended silence, wincing once again.

That put Reid on the alert. "Do you know where you are?"

"What?"

"Where are you? Do you remember how you got here?"

"Spence, they've done all that with me, in Emergency, and after I got up here."

"You haven't answered the question."

JJ rolled her eyes….and then winced again. Rolling hurt.

"All right. I'm in a hospital in Reston, Virginia, because I was in a car accident with five of my colleagues. And, before you ask, don't. I've completely lost track of the date. I don't even know what day of the week it is, but that has nothing to do with my concussion."

Which made him wonder. "What day _is_ it? Oh, wait." He pulled out his phone and checked the screen. "It's Saturday."

"Oh, thank God. Mom is bringing the boys back on Monday. Henry has Boy Scouts that night." Then she gasped. "Does my mom know? Did anyone call her? Please tell me no one called her."

He pulled the hospital chair next to the bed, and sat, covering her hand with his.

"Relax. I don't think anyone knew to call her. They were still trying to reach Will. Where is he, anyway? He didn't answer any of Garcia's calls or texts."

"He wouldn't. He's at this DHS training for cops. Something new. It was supposed to be pretty intense, and they're basically off limits until its over."

"Even in an emergency?"

She shrugged. "I suppose his captain would have gotten a message through. But I asked them not to call him _since I'm fine_." Pointedly emphasizing the last three words.

He squeezed the hand under his.

"I know you are. I'll just feel better if you still feel fine through the night. If the next CT scan is good, I promise you I won't hover. Much."

She smiled, and upended her palm, to clasp his fingers. "That's the Spence I know."

 _Thank God you're still in there, even if you don't think you are._

Reid straightened her hand between both of his, and lifted them. He caught her eyes and held them.

"When I heard about the accident…..when I heard about you…. I thought, 'If something bad has happened to her, I'm lost. I can't do this.'"

"Spence…"

"No, hear me out. I thought, 'She's the one who kept me going. She's the one who kept me rooted into my life…the life I _used_ to live, I mean."

"You're going to live it again, Spence. Just give it time."

His lips flattened. "I don't know about that. But there's something that I _do_ know."

She tilted her head and examined him.

"What?"

"That I _want_ to. That, if I _do_ get there, it will have been because of you."

"Me? How?"

"When you pointed out that the fact that I was upset about who I might have become, proved that I hadn't become that person. You foiled me with logic."

JJ furrowed her brow. She didn't remember any such conversation.

 _Although I wish I'd been smart enough to point it out. Is it the concussion? Am I having trouble with my memory?_

Reid saw the look of confusion on her face, which prompted one on his own. Then he remembered.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I went for a walk around the grounds at Rossi's this morning. And I sort of got into a conversation with myself. Except that I heard half of it in your voice."

Now she was even more confused. "And my pretend self gave you good advice?"

He smiled. "Your real self and your pretend self are both pretty wise."

She nodded, which movement caused her to wince again. " _Now_ you're making sense. I was beginning to think it was _you_ who needed the French fry."

"The what?"

"The….cartoon.."

"JJ.."

A look of surprise came to her face. Then, without warning, she vomited.

And Reid dropped her hand, and ran for help.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 3**_

Reid stood, looking at the empty bed. Ten minutes ago, his best friend had lain there, looking frightened, and confused. He was pretty sure his face had reflected hers, as he'd experienced the same feelings.

 _She had a normal scan less than an hour ago. Did they miss something? Should I have insisted she be moved?_

But a transfer wouldn't have happened that quickly. She would probably still have been at Reston. Or, even worse, it might have happened in transit. As it was, they'd called the consulting neurosurgeon back to the hospital emergently. He would re-read her scans, and examine her.

 _And save her life, God willing, if it needs saving._

He wished they would have let him go with her. He could at least have walked beside her on the way to radiology, held her hand, tell her not to be frightened, even if he was. But they'd insisted. There were meds to be given, and preparations to be made, and they couldn't have a 'civilian' getting in the way. He should remain in her room, and someone would come, eventually, to give him news.

 _Eventually. How long is 'eventually'?_

Part of Reid's brain mused on the idea of time, and how much it was affected by circumstance. In prison, each day had been agonizingly long, each night even longer, as he'd feared for his life, and his sanity, and his soul. But it had soon become clear that he would be in there for at least three months, if not for the remainder of his life. Counting seconds and minutes had quickly become meaningless when their numbers were expected to mount to that scale. He'd tried to find a way to remove himself from time, to move beyond an awareness of the tortuously slow passage of each day. In some ways, prison made that easier. There was little exposure to the cues of sunlight and dark. But there was still the routine of the day, and the night, some imposed by the prison, some by the prisoners. Time had been inescapable, and it had not been his friend.

Nor was it now. Having to wait meant having the opportunity to once again conjure up every dread permutation of what might be happening, or even of what might already have happened. If it hadn't been JJ, if he hadn't been so frightened, if it hadn't been occurring after the most intense, endless and harrowing experience of his life, he might have been able to convince himself to look on the bright side. That whatever had happened, had happened suddenly. That she hadn't been in whatever state she was in for a prolonged period of time. That the neurosurgeon was already on his way. But….

 _'On his way' means he's not here already. What if a 'nick' becomes a 'tear'? What if it's deeper than that? What if there isn't anything they can do to help her anyway?_

A more emotionally stable Reid would have imposed logic back into his thought process. That logic would have reminded him that she'd already had two scans. That Reston might not be a Level 1 trauma center, but it was a Level 2. That experienced medical staff would know how to read a CT scan, and how to handle a deteriorating patient.

But the Reid standing in JJ's hospital room was sleep-deprived, hypervigilant, wary, and just barely reacquainting himself with hope. His psyche had been battered, and one of the few remaining things holding it together was currently having her brain imaged. Even if logic had tried to present itself, he would have batted it away. Fear gave way to anger, as he launched into an inner tirade.

 _Don't do this. Please don't do this. God damn it, don't do this! Are You so frustrated by not being able to hurt me anymore, You have to go after her? I can't._ She _can't. She has children! You gave her children! Can You so casually take her away from them?_

He wasn't even a believer, but he had to yell at _someone_. Why not the Arbiter of Fate?

 _Is it because of what I did? Are You angry with me? Don't bother. I'm angry enough with myself. I'm disgusted with myself. But she had nothing to do with it. Don't You dare take it out on her!_

For a long time, it didn't even occur to him to try to call anyone. When it finally did, trickles of logic began to seep in. Who should he call? Who _could_ he call? Cruz, maybe. Not any of the others. They'd all been injured themselves, and there was nothing to be gained from worrying them. Will was out of reach. Sandy had the boys. And he couldn't call Garcia without risking hysteria.

It was as lonely a feeling as he could remember. Prison had been isolating, but at least he'd known the others were out there. Now, there was virtually no one. No one to share his fear, no one to assure him.

 _No one to tell me there's a reason to hold on._

He hadn't said it aloud, but it brought him up short, nonetheless. He'd felt it, at Milburn. The only moments of respite he'd had from fear, he'd fallen back to a sense of sad desperation. A burgeoning realization that this was to be his life, for the foreseeable future, and, perhaps for the _entirety_ of his future. And he'd not known how to bear it. He'd wanted it to end, in whatever way it could, including by his own hand.

The visits hadn't done much to change that. JJ had come first, and last. In between, there had been Garcia, and Rossi, and Tara, and Emily. He'd appreciated the love and support from all of them. But it had been only JJ who'd left him with something to hold on to, JJ who'd insisted he remember its existence. They'd all been worried about him, and he'd tried to assure them, but it had been JJ who'd seen through his façade. It had been JJ who'd brought him to tears with her reminder of the little boys who loved him, and of the life he'd lived before. JJ who'd known that those tears mght be the only way to dilute the poison pulsing within, for however long they needed to. And it had been JJ there at the end, coming for him, standing ready during his battle with Cat, defending him to himself.

He'd had a difficult enough time trying to find a reason to remain alive in a world that still held the promise of his best friend. He was nearly certain he would be unable to stay in a world without her. If only to save himself, he should want her to live. But he wasn't convinced he _could_ be saved.

 _So save her for her own sake. Save her for the boys. Save her for Will. You don' t need to do anything for me._

Suddenly, Reid's legs felt the full weight of nearly three days with fewer than four hours of sleep, and they began to buckle beneath him. He fell back into the hospital chair, slipped his shoes off, and lifted his feet to rest on the corner of the bed. Leaning back, and closing his eyes, he fully intended to launch into another silent battle with the Almighty. But something shushed his brain, and he was asleep within seconds.

* * *

"Dr. Reid? Dr. Reid…"

He heard his name being called as he felt himself jostled awake. A quick look at his watch, and he realized it had been about three hours since he'd last shaken his fist at the heavens. Now someone was shaking _him_.

He had to blink his eyes open, and then shade them, in the bright light of the hospital room. Before him was a middle aged man in scrubs, a surgical cap still on his head. Reid dropped his feet to the floor, and stood.

"Sorry to wake you, but I thought you would want to know, and Ms. Jareau gave us permission, before we operated."

"How…are you….is she…."

"Oh, sorry. I'm Dr. Hylan." He shook hands with Reid. "I am a neurosurgeon. I was called in to consult on Ms. Jareau's case."

Reid had to literally shake his head to get his brain to work. When it did, it retrieved a word from a few seconds before.

"Did you say you _operated_?"

"Yes, and it went very well. That's what I wanted you to know."

"But….what? Was it an epidural?"

The neurosurgeon tilted his head. "She said your degree…..excuse me, _degrees_ ….were PhDs. Are you also a medical doctor?"

"No. Just well read. So…was it? She was confused and dysphasic, after several hours of lucidity. It happened just like that." Snapping his fingers.

Dr. Hylan nodded. "It had just reached the point of pressure. There was a very small tear, the bleeding was actually minimal, but between it and the swelling caused by the fracture, there was pressure on her brain."

"But they'd done a CT scan within the hour! Did they miss it?"

The surgeon waggled his hand. "It was pretty subtle. But, technically, it wasn't missed. For cases like this one, our neurosurgery group looks at all the CTs ourselves. I'd already seen it, and was headed over from Inova when I got the call."

"Inova…..that's where I thought she _should_ be."

"She's fine here. There are only so many neurosurgeons to go around, so we cover both. These are good people here, she'll get the care she needs. Which, frankly, shouldn't be much."

"After brain surgery?" Incredulous.

"After a fairly common surgery to evacuate a minor hematoma. All I did was to raise a little flap, evacuate the blood, and put a couple of sutures into the vessel. But I promise I didn't touch her brain." Smiling in assurance.

It was what he'd wanted so desperately to hear, so Reid accepted it. Although he couldn't help but create a visual image of a 'little flap' of skull, especially when it belonged to his best friend.

"So….she's okay? You don't think there was any damage? Should I look for anything?"

"She should be fine. We'll repeat the CT later in the day, and monitor her for 24 hours. After that, if things still look as I expect they will, she's good to go."

"Really?"

"Really. I understand it sounds like a major thing when you're talking about someone you care about being injured. But, when you're in my business, it's pretty routine."

Reid put out his hand again. "If you call saving lives 'routine'. Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Hylan shook the hand extended to him. "You're quite welcome, Dr. Reid. And I should thank you, as well. I've been here in NoVa long enough to have developed a great respect for the work our government agents do, even when I know I'm not supposed to know about it. So, thank _you_."

Reid nodded his acknowledgement. Then he had a question.

"When can I see her?"

"She'll be upstairs in a couple of hours. We'll move her down the hall to a monitored bed. You can wait for her in her room, if you'd like."

"Please."

The neurosurgeon left about his business, and Reid waited to be directed to the new hospital room. While he did, he resumed his conversation of a few hours ago.

 _All right, then. Thank You, if You even exist._

He remembered virtually shaking his fist at the unknown, Deity or Fate, it didn't matter. He remembered offering himself in her stead. Except that it hadn't exactly been an offer. He'd made a _demand_. He'd demanded that _she_ not be punished for _his_ sins. Now, she'd been saved. Did that mean more punishment was coming _his_ way?

Even as he processed the thought, he knew how crazy it sounded. He wasn't living in some Greek myth, where Fate would insist upon exacting a price. It wasn't _Fate_. He was aware enough to know _that._ But his mind felt like sludge, and he wasn't thinking clearly enough to surface that _other_ thought, the one birthed so deep inside.

Had he been, he would have realized who it was that still felt a price needed to be exacted.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Broken_**

 ** _Chapter 4_**

He'd nodded off again, once settled in JJ's new room. But he'd snapped awake at the rattle of a gurney being wheeled into the space, carrying the still form of his best friend in all the world.

"Is she.."

"Just sleeping. She was awake for a few minutes in recovery, though. Maybe not quite alert, but she knew who she was and she figured out _where_ she was in pretty short order."

Two nurses expertly shifted JJ from the gurney to her bed, where the young woman squirmed a bit in her sleep, seeking a position of comfort. Reid had seen her do it a thousand times on the jet, and it brought a smile to his lips.

 _At least that much is normal._

Once the monitoring equipment was in place, and the nurses gone, Reid seated himself beside JJ's bed, and watched her. It was the second-best thing to being able to sleep himself.

He took note of the bandage on her head, and the hair that fell below it. Idly, he wondered if she'd lost any, and how she might feel about that. He'd never known her to be vain, but then again, he'd never seen her as anything but beautiful.

 _From the inside out. What's a few strands of hair, when you've got such a remarkable heart?_

Through the window, morning twilight gave definition to the landscape surrounding the hospital, and reminded Reid that he still hadn't called anyone. Nor, he realized, had anyone called _him_. Which immediately worried him.

 _Why wouldn't Cruz call? Or Rossi, if they were together?_

There was only one thing he could think of….

 _Emily! What if she's in trouble? What if she was more badly injured than they realized? What if…._

Facts began to present themselves from some dark corners of his mind. Emily had been thought to have internal bleeding. A ruptured spleen was common enough, albeit dangerous, and its removal should have been a relatively simple surgery.

 _But what if there was more? A bowel perforation could cause a serious infection? Or what if her liver was involved as well? Or what if they just couldn't stop the bleeding?_

He waffled for a moment on which of the men to call, and decided on Rossi. He knew either of them would pick up on even the slightest trace of panic in his voice, but at least Rossi wasn't making the decision about whether he could remain with the FBI.

A groggy voice answered the senior profiler's phone. "Spencer? What's wrong?"

The question, and the fact that he'd obviously wakened his older friend, assured Reid immediately. Then he felt bad about having interrupted Rossi's sleep.

"Uh…nothing. I was just…. I realized I hadn't called anyone about JJ, but then I realized no one had called _me_ , and I thought that might mean something bad about Emily, and I couldn't….I just _couldn't_.."

Sounding more alert, and just a little bit alarmed, Rossi interrupted him.

"Relax, Spencer. Emily came through surgery just fine. They were going to observe her in ICU overnight, but she'll probably be in a regular hospital room after that. You guys will be able to visit her. What time will you be ready? I can… "

"Uh….. JJ isn't going home today."

The words were met with momentary silence on the other end.

"What do you mean?"

"She ….. they had to take her to surgery. She had some bleeding, but the neurosurgeon thinks he got it in time."

"Neurosurgeon?! She was bleeding in her _brain_?" Now fully understanding why Reid had sounded as he had.

"Outside it, just inside the skull, where the fracture is. It put pressure on her brain. Her headache seemed worse, and she was sounding confused…"

Last night at Inova, Rossi and Cruz had talked about the status of the team. With two members hospitalized and another four essentially walking wounded, only their tech analyst and their currently fragile genius were left. And Reid's status with the FBI was anything but clear. They'd concluded that it would be best for the team to stand down until the bulk of its members were available for unrestricted duty. That would mean leaving the search for Scratch to others, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Until just a few seconds ago, Rossi had assumed that Emily's recovery would be the limiting factor, but now things sounded much more ominous for JJ.

"Reid, is she all right? Why didn't you call me when it happened?"

"She's sleeping now. The nurses said she was oriented in the recovery room. I can't….she hasn't been awake since she got here."

"You're there with her? In her room?" Something about that idea sounded encouraging.

"Yes. I just… I'm sorry I didn't call you. I didn't even think about it, at first, and then it was the middle of the night, and there was nothing you could have done anyway…"

"I could have waited with you." _I could have been afraid with you. I could have helped you think._

Rossi could only imagine the state of Reid's mind right now. The young man had been through so much, seen so much, _done_ so much, and it had all taken a very obvious toll. He'd shared the fact of his turmoil with Rossi, the one time they'd been able to visit. He'd told Rossi about the nightmares that had recreated the fear, and grief, and helplessness that had been the reality of each waking hour. That level of stress couldn't be countered by any kind of coping mechanism.

Rossi had discussed it with Emily, and again last night, with Cruz. Reid had been through unrelenting trauma for nearly four months, while separated from everything supportive in his life. PTSD was a very real possibility, a near surety.

 _Except that you can't have post-traumatic anything until you you're 'post' the trauma. Right now, the kid's still in the middle of it, with no end in sight._

In truth, Reid's ordeal had been traumatic for _all_ of them, and not just because of their concern for their friend. It had been traumatic because it had threatened their identity and purpose as a team, turning the tables on the roles of victim and prey. They were supposed to be in the business of outwitting the unsubs. Instead, _they'd_ been outwitted, and one of them, their youngest, had paid an unthinkable price. Not only had this particular unsub been able to frame him, but she'd managed to manipulate his torturous time in prison to heighten the damage to both his body and his psyche. His teammates had failed to keep him safe... _and_ they'd failed to correctly identify his tormentor.

Not a single one of them had ever even considered Cat Adams a threat. She'd very nearly bested them, and would have, if her hubris hadn't gotten in the way. She'd had to practically wave a flag to get their attention, by sending Lyndsey Vaughn to Milburn with Diana Reid. Until then, they'd been too focused on Scratch. And then, apparently unwilling to relinquish the spotlight to Cat Adams, Scratch had resurfaced, and targeted the team directly, and, to one degree or another, had succeeded in hurting them.

 _We let ourselves fall into both of their hands, and look at us. This isn't how it's supposed to be. It's not how it_ used _to be._

Not at first. Not in the beginning, with Gideon. Back then, the FBI had always been in the role of hunter, and the unsub in the role of prey. But the very existence of the BAU had become a challenge to the hunted. In time, some of them had tried rewrite the script, and some of _those_ had succeeded.

Gideon had lost his life. Hotch had lost his wife at the hands of George Foyet, and his livelihood at the threat of Peter Lewis. Morgan had nearly lost his family, as well as his own life, for the sake of revenge. And Reid had very nearly lost his reason for living through the machinations of Cat Adams.

 _We're damaged goods, all of us._

Rossi was almost glad of the opportunity to stand down. They needed to retreat, to take stock of their individual situations, and their cohesion as a team. They each needed to decide if the work was costing them too much, if it had _already_ cost some of them too much.

He'd had the same thought throughout the length of Reid's ordeal, not just for the fact of his being framed and victimized, but for the fact of their apparent inability to help him in any way. None of them were accustomed to feeling so helpless in the face of evil. It had affected their confidence in their work, and their devotion to doing it. If they couldn't help a single one of their own, how could they possibly hope to help masses of strangers?

His brief reverie was interrupted by Reid's response.

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking straight. I just.. I thought it was better to let you rest. You'd all just been in the accident, and…"

"And you were trying to protect us. I get it. Don't worry about it, Spencer. We're talking now. What about her family?"

"Will is out of reach. But I'll call her mother after I get off with you. She has the boys, and I didn't want to…. I just didn't think…I just didn't think."

A sympathetic tone infused the older man's voice. "It's all right, Spencer. Give me an address, and I'll swing by to pick them up. We bonded a little bit over the wedding. I'm pretty sure she'll want to be with her daughter."

"I'm sorry, I was stupid. I should have…"

"Don't beat up on yourself. I'm sure Sandy will be comforted to know that you were there. And, by the way, _your_ mom is fine. She and …what's his name? Roy?...were both asleep when I got home. Roy woke up long enough to tell me that he'd gotten her down without too much trouble."

"Too much?"

"She was anxious when she realized you were gone, but he seems like he knows what he's doing. She was sleeping like a baby when I peeked in on her."

Reid was touched at the idea of Rossi looking after his mother, and guilty at having caused her anxiety.

"Thank you."

"De nada, Kid. I'm heading out now. Let Sandy know I'm on my way, okay?"

* * *

He didn't' even realize he'd nodded off, but he must have. How else to awaken to the sound of his name softly called?

"Spence…Spence…."

Conscious thought was slow to come, but his subconscious realized the situation and shot his eyes open.

"JJ! You're awake!"

Her head was still reclining on the pillow, but her eyes were open, that deep, familiar blue that always drew him in. She lifted the hand closest to Reid.

"What happened?"

He scooted the chair next to the bed, and took her hand in his.

"What do you remember?"

JJ closed her eyes and tried to make sense of the chaos within.

"Prison…you were….oh, God, Spence, you're not there any more, right? You're here?"

That didn't sound so 'alert and oriented' to Reid. He was about to push the call button when she continued.

"No….no. You're free. Oh, thank God, you're free! Oh, thank God…thank God…"

Her eyes were still closed, a single tear escaping from the left.

"JJ…."

"Wait…..we were…we went on the jet…..Cat Adams! It was Cat Adams! She….."

Reid's brow furrowed. Maybe she was just having trouble with immediate short-term recall. But she seemed to be following a stream of thought that might well lead her to an accurate present.

 _But first, she'll have to remember what I did to Cat._ And he dreaded that moment.

"She….is your mom okay? Did we find her?"

Reid rubbed at her hand. "Mom is fine. She's at Rossi's."

JJ opened her eyes and looked at him. "She is? Because Cat…..oh."

He looked away from her. "Yeah. Oh."

"But…..you _didn't_ , right? You didn't."

"Only because you were there to stop me. I'm sorry you had to see that."

She made no response, as her eyes closed in concentration once again.

"Oh! I remember now! We were going to….to… a cabin, right? Scratch was trying to trick us…..and Luke lost control of the SUV. But…but I thought we were okay. I remember being okay. What happened?"

Reid explained what he'd been told about the second part of the occurrence on the Virginia state road, and about her injury, and the surgery. At that, her hand went immediately to the bandage.

"Did they….am I…."

He smiled. "Judging by what's coming out from under the bandage, I think It's all there. But, even if they had to shave some of your hair…..you're still beautiful."

 _Just the fact that your eyes are open and we're talking is beauty enough for me._

She asked about the others, and was alert enough to notice when he'd mentioned all but Emily.

"What happened to her?"

He was grateful that he had good news to give her at the outset. Emily would be out of commission for a while, but they expected a full recovery.

"Thank God. So, how long does one have to stay out of work after brain surgery?"

The little dose of sweet sarcasm was so like her, it completed the process of assurance. Reid fell against the back of his chair, relaxed for the first time in recent memory.

"As long as they say. And don't even think about arguing the point. I've got reinforcements. Your mother is on her way."

"My mother! Spence, she'll just worry about me incessantly."

Inadvertently heartening her best friend, who would be glad of having company in that endeavor.

"It's okay. I spoke with her before. She knows the surgery was successful. She'll be fine."

She would have been 'finer' if he'd been able to tell her that JJ was awake and talking. But Sandy had taken it like someone who'd grown resigned to the fact that her remaining child had a dangerous job, in the service of making the world a little bit safer. There'd been a stoicism that Reid had long recognized as a character trait in his best friend. Now he knew where it came from.

They were interrupted by morning rounds and an aide coming in to accomplish the morning ablutions. An embarrassed Reid took those few minutes to search out the hospital coffee shop and procure some starter fluid for both of them. When he came back up to the room, JJ's bandage was fresh, her visible hair brushed, her hospital gown changed, and her bedding crisp. To his eyes, the effect was angelic.

She turned down the coffee, but asked about his.

"Still black?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "It's only been a day. Give me some time."

She smiled back at him. "As much as you need, Spence _." As long as you come back._

A sound of bustling came from the doorway, and two small figures preceded two adults into the hospital room.

"Mommy!"

Henry was on the bed before anyone could think to stop him. Reid wasn't so sure it was a good idea until he saw the look of bliss on the faces of both mother and son. Then he lifted Michael, so he could do the same.

Rossi explained, "I was going to stay in the lobby with them, but someone has big ears, and wasn't having it. She didn't have any visitor restrictions, so…"

Reid nodded. "You did the right thing."

At the sound of his godfather's voice, Henry's head snapped around. Until now, he'd had eyes only for his mother. Now, he shrieked.

"Uncle Spence! Uncle Spence!"

Henry clambered over his brother and leapt from the bed, and into the waiting arms that had first held him on the day of his birth. From that time until now, they'd not been apart for longer than a week or two, not even when the owner of those arms had mourned the death of his one true love.

Henry's own arms were longer now, and made it all the way around Reid's neck and then some, and he used them to squeeze, hard, pressing all of his joy into his embrace. He hadn't the words, but he knew how to make his feelings known.

The object of those feelings basked in the love of the boy who'd resided in his heart for the past eight years, and marveled at how quickly he'd grown in the time they'd been apart. The baby fat was gone, and Henry was thin, like his mother, all gangly arms and legs, looking not at all like the small boy in the primitive drawing that had grounded Reid during his time at Milburn, and yet invoking his memory. The very fact of holding Henry, and then Michael, and smiling at the recovering form of his best friend in her hospital bed, made this day a sunny day in the park, for Reid.

As the boys attached themselves to their godfather, Sandy made her way to JJ.

"Are you all right?" Kissing the uninjured side of her daughter's head.

JJ caught her mother's hand with a reassuring squeeze. "I'm okay, Mom. It's all over now." _I hope._

"I wish I'd known. I would have been here." Flashing a look in Reid's direction.

He apologized over a clinging Michael's head. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. I _couldn't_ think. I should have.."

JJ spoke over him. "Mom, there wasn't anything you could have done. And besides, it was the middle of the night. What would you have done with the boys?"

"I don't know. But I would have liked to have had the option of figuring it out."

Reid put Michael down and apologized once again.

"I'm sorry, Sandy. I was wrong. I should have called you. It was foolish of me not to."

Sandy had first heard about Spencer Reid when he'd come to the BAU shortly after her daughter. She'd met him for the first time shortly after Henry's birth. Since then, they'd been together at many family gatherings, and birthday parties, and one, very special, wedding. Never once had the word 'foolish' ever come to Sandy's mind, when thinking how to describe Reid. His use of the word just now was so unexpected that it broke through her furious concern about her daughter, and she remembered.

"Oh!" She stood and turned to Reid. "Oh, my God, Spencer! You're here! I mean…I know, but…I just realized! You're free?"

Looking from one profiler to another, for confirmation.

Reid's smile was small, and embarrassed. He should never have allowed himself to be in the position of needing to be freed in the first place.

JJ answered her mother. "We found the person who framed him, and kidnapped his mother. Spence is free, and Diana is safe."

"Kidnapped his mother?! Jennifer, you didn't….."

Rossi spoke up this time. "It all happened very quickly, in the end. But, yes, your daughter and Spencer tricked the unsubs and Diana Reid is now safely ensconced in my home, with her nurse. Ironically, it turned out not to have anything to do with the case that sent us all to the hospital."

Without another word, Sandy walked over to Reid and put her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry for everything you've been through, Spencer. For the record, I never had any doubt that you couldn't have done what you were accused of. Jennifer's faith in you was all I needed for that."

"Thanks."

 _But I did do something no one knows about. Which means your daughter's faith in me was misplaced._

"Are _you_ all right?" Driven by maternal instinct, Sandy looked him up and down, apparently not happy with what she saw.

JJ was all too familiar with the look on her mother's face. "He's exhausted, Mom. He's barely slept in, what, four days?"

Michael had become happily distracted with Rossi's keys, but Henry's ears, and mind, were fully attentive. He'd filed away words like 'free' and kidnapped', and 'accused' for a time when they didn't sound quite so frightening. He'd been told his Uncle Spence was off on a case, for what had seemed like a lifetime. But his Uncle Spence, like his mother and father, always got the bad guys. It was all right now. Wasn't it?

He tugged at Reid's sleeve. "Do you need a nap, Uncle Spence?"

Rossi tousled the little guy's hair. "He needs about four days' worth of naps, my friend. I'm pretty sure we could all use some rest. Tell you what, you guys visit for few minutes more, then we'll let your mom rest, and I'll drop your Uncle Spencer off at my place. After that….I'm pretty sure I know a good pancake place."

"Do they have chocolate chips?" In stereo.

Rossi made a face. Not exactly his idea of a gourmet brunch, but… "I'll call ahead."

"Yay! Can we get some for Mommy and Uncle Spence, too?"

The normalcy of it, the sweetness, nearly knocked Reid off his feet. The kindness, the supportiveness, the love in the room, the excitement of the little boys he cherished, over something so simple. For the entirety of his time in prison, it had seemed like a long-ago dream, lived in a far-away land. It had seemed like someone else's life. And now, here it was, surrounding him. It felt so familiar, and yet so foreign. So right, and yet so undeserved. They all knew who he was, and they loved him.

But he knew who he'd become. He knew _what_ he'd become.

 _Broken_.

He could feel it coming, and knew instinctively that he wouldn't be able to stop it. A wave of overwhelming sorrow over what he'd lost, and might never have again, might never _deserve_ again. A wave, closing the distance, about to crest over him, and then recede, taking his composure along with it.

Not wanting to frighten the boys by breaking down, he looked a plea for understanding toward Rossi, and bolted from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Broken**

 **Chapter 5**

Rossi found him outside, in the parking lot. A stray leaf fallen onto Reid's shoulder belied the time he'd spent in the woods. And the redness of his eyes belied what he'd been doing there.

"I'm sorry. I just….I was afraid to scare them. I probably did anyway, right?"

Rossi brushed the leaf from Reid's shoulder. "Relax. JJ's got you covered."

That brought a puzzled look, to which Rossi explained, "She told them you had to pee. Which idea was, judging from their reactions, hilarious."

As embarrassing as it was, Reid was heartened that JJ had had the presence of mind to come up with an excuse for him. It boded well for her brain having survived the epidural hematoma unscathed. And he was glad to hear of the boys' reaction.

"Developmentally, it's usually four year olds who are fixated on bodily functions."

Reid may have been heartened by JJ's intervention with the boys, but it was Rossi who was heartened to hear his younger colleague so automatically provide an unsolicited factoid.

 _JJ is still intact, and so are you, my friend. You both just need some time to recover. The only difference is that she's wearing_ her _wounds on the outside._

"Well, then, either Michael is advanced, or Henry is regressing, or both. But they were both laughing hysterically at the idea that their Uncle Spence was worried about wetting his pants."

The small smile on Reid's lips never quite made it to his eyes.

"No harm done, Spencer." Rossi had something else to discuss with his friend. "Listen, while you were out here, the doctor stopped by. He said she'd be ready to go in the morning, if she keeps up as she has. But he wants her to 'be in a quiet, non-stimulating environment'", making finger quotes, "for a day or two."

Reid's brows went up. "How can…."

He was intimately familiar with the noise and baseline chaos of life with his two godsons.

"That's what we thought….Sandy and I. So, we came up with an idea. Sandy's going to stay with the boys, at least until Will gets home. JJ will stay at my place, just for the day or two. She wanted to give me a hard time about it, but her mother and I outnumbered her. And, besides, we've got the nurse there."

Reid was in JJ's camp on this, but for a different reason. Clearly there was no peace and quiet to be found in the LaMontagne household, not with the two young boys living there. But he was concerned about his mother's increasingly erratic and unpredictable behavior. _That_ couldn't be good for JJ, either.

"Maybe I can get my place cleaned up and move back in there with Mom, tomorrow. I just need to find my car." Still not knowing what JJ had done with it.

"Uh-uh, my friend, I'm afraid that's a no-go. It was the presence of your mom's nurse that sold Sandy on the idea, and Sandy who sold JJ. So I'm afraid you're stuck at 'Rossi Manor' for another day or so. But I _can_ go over to your place with you tomorrow, and we'll see what kind of shape it's in."

The master profiler knew his youngest colleagues well, especially because he'd _been_ them, once upon a time. He was intimately familiar with the denial of youth, the glossing over of one's own hurts and needs, in the service of a greater cause.

 _It doesn't go away when you get older_ , he mused. _But your body becomes its own teacher. Wisdom springs from exhaustion and pain._

The two young people both needed rest, and relief from the relentless emotional turmoil of the past three and four months. For at least a few days, Rossi would do his best to see that they had it.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Rossi had pried the others away from JJ, dropped Reid off at 'the manor', and kept his pancake promise to the boys. He'd given an update to Cruz, checked in on the others, and was now, finally, home, once again. And his body was passing along a few of those words of wisdom.

 _You were in an accident too, you dolt. Stop running around after everyone else, and lay me down!_

He headed toward his library, and his favorite napping couch, only to find both the room and the couch occupied. Roy looked up from the book he was reading.

"I hope you don't mind. It's such an impressive collection."

Indeed it was, including quite a few first editions. But Roy wasn't reading any of those.

"Isn't that my first book?"

Roy shrugged, even as he blushed. "I was curious. Figured I should maybe learn a little bit about what you all do."

Rossi smiled. "Don't read too much at once. It has a way of keeping you up at night." Then his eyes moved to the other figure in the room, splayed out the length of his sofa. "I'm glad to see _that_."

Roy smiled. "He lasted longer than I would have, reading something like that." He indicated the thick hard-cover tome across Reid's chest. "Who reads medieval literature for fun, anyway?"

Rossi grinned. "I see there are more ways in which you'll need to get to know us."

* * *

At some point the evening before, Rossi had given up on sending Reid to bed, and had simply covered the young man with a light blanket. As he came down the stairs this morning, the only thing that had changed was Reid's position on the couch.

 _Here, I thought I was going to have to sedate you with my best single malt, and all it took was Chaucer. You're a cheap date, Spencer!_

He put some coffee brewing, and retrieved the morning paper. He was half-way through his first cup when Reid joined him in the kitchen. Rossi looked up at his guest.

"Good morning."

"Morning", mumbled the genius, as he searched out a mug.

"Cabinet on the right. Sugar's….."

But Reid had already poured, and was sipping the brew, sans amendments. Rossi took note, but chose not to comment.

"When do we get JJ?"

Rossi put the paper aside. "We don't. Her mom will pick her up, and bring her here."

That didn't go over well. "But I wanted to talk to her doctor…."

Embarrassed, then. He had no right to demand any such thing.

Rossi saw it for what it was. Trying to wrest control over something, after having had none, over any aspect of his life, for so long.

"She'll be all right, Spencer. They wouldn't discharge her if they didn't believe that. And, besides, Sandy is driving her here in your car. I'll run her back home when she's ready."

"What about the boys?"

"They're with somebody named Karen?"

Reid recognized the name. "She's the sitter. The boys love her. But she's not available at night, most of the time."

Rossi nodded. "Hence, the fairy grandmother. JJ's lucky to have her."

"Amen to that." Reid had often had reason to feel the same way.

"So…what do you say if I go with you over to your place later on? I can help you clean up, get things ready for your mom, in a few days."

Reid spent so long staring into the depths of his mug that Rossi felt the need to prompt him.

"Spencer?"

The young man looked up quickly. "Huh? Oh. Sorry. I just….. I know I have to be realistic about my mother. I mean, it wasn't exactly going smoothly before I went to Mexico, and it's been four months of separation and stress for her, ever since. I don't even know what to expect when she sees the apartment again. I don't know exactly what happened to her, and who knows what she'll remember, anyway. I guess…"

Rossi waited him out.

"….I guess ...no, I _know_ …..that I need to find something else for her. I've _known_ it. But I haven't been able to think about it. I haven't been able to _think_ , period. And now…."

His older friend put it together for him.

"And now, you've just been reunited, after a traumatic experience for both of you…."

Reid interrupted him. "And we don't even know exactly what trauma she went through."

"That's true. And you may never know it. But the truth is, Spencer, and I know you know this…..no matter what she went through, or what she might _think_ she went through, or how much she remembers…. she needs professional help. And, my friend, no matter how much I admire your brain and your doctorates… _.you_ can't be that professional help."

The tousled head bobbed in reluctant affirmation.

"I know. I just….. I'm sorry I ever moved her from Bennington. It had been her home for almost seventeen years, she was happy there. She even asked me to send her back."

Remembering, his hand went instinctively to his cheek. Diana hadn't exactly _asked_ to go back to Bennington. She'd _demanded_ it, and she'd slapped him across the face, in that same exchange.

"Do I need to remind you that she walked away from Bennington? Didn't you get a call about her being found in a casino? She needs a specialized facility, Spencer, one designed for people with dementia."

Reid was quiet for a long minute. "That's what Cassie said. She wanted to help me find a place. And now…"

Rossi wasn't going to let him go there. Lyndsey Vaughn and Cat Adams were responsible for Cassie's death, not Spencer Reid.

"And now, we can talk to Roy. Or his agency, or whoever. We'll find a place nearby, and you and she can visit as often as you like. I'll help you, if you'll let me."

"You?"

Rossi was chagrined. "Well, I was going to call Jessica, actually. You remember Hotch's sister-in-law? Her dad has Alzheimer's too."

An even longer silence ensued, before Reid broke it.

"Do you miss him, too?"

Rossi didn't need clarification.

"Every day, my friend. Which is why, as soon as we're whole, we're going after that SOB who took him from us. I'm tired of getting thrown around by Scratch. Time to do some throwing of our own."

* * *

"Thanks."

JJ took the proffered cup of tea, prepared just as she liked it. Then she patted the seat next to her.

"Sit with me. Your mom's asleep, isn't she?"

Diana had bid them both good night, just a short while ago. In broad daylight.

"According to Roy, she's slept most of the last two days."

"Sounds pretty inviting, doesn't it?" JJ leaned back in the wicker loveseat, looking out at the grounds surrounding Rossi's sunporch.

Reid was immediately solicitous. "Do you want to lie down?"

He started to rise, intending to get a pillow for her head, but she pulled him back down.

"I've been sleeping most of the last two days. I can at least stay up with you until Rossi gets back from dropping Mom off."

"You're _supposed_ to be sleeping. You have a concussion, JJ, and you just had surgery. The doctor wants you to rest your brain. That means no…"

"I know what it means. No reading, no screens, no working out. You memorized my discharge instructions, didn't you? Was there anything in there about not spending time relaxing with my best friend? Whom I have barely seen, and so badly missed, for the past three months?"

She made a show of batting her eyes at him, an old joke between the two, a remnant of their one and only date. All he could do was smile, and concede.

"I guess…."

She didn't wait for him to finish. Adjusting in her seat, she leaned the uninjured side of her head against his shoulder.

"We don't even need to talk. We can just 'be'."

After what he'd been through, after what they'd _both_ been through, and not having any idea what his future held, just 'being' with his best friend sounded like heaven to Reid. It was an irresistible temptation, which he did not even attempt to resist. Instead, he lifted his arm so JJ could find her position of comfort, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

And then they both sat, silently, each aware of the other, each aware of the new found preciousness of what they'd so often taken for granted, each actively holding at bay the recent memories trying to intrude on this moment of peace.

The memories would pursue them relentlessly enough. They would even overtake them, from time to time. But now just now. For now, they were content just to be.

Together.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 6**_

By six, Reid and Rossi had been to the former's apartment, the senior profiler studying his junior for any visible reaction to being in the place from which his mother and her caretaker had been kidnapped, and doors away from where that caretaker had been murdered. Reid had already been there once, with JJ, but that had been in the midst of trying to save Diana. He'd been entirely focused then, and not yet processing all that had happened to his life. But the processing had since begun, and Rossi was concerned about how his young friend would handle it.

But, no matter Rossi's scrutiny, there had been little to see. It was as though Reid had purposely kept his features set, nearly immobile, which fact was telling in itself.

 _He's afraid of his own reaction. He doesn't trust his control right now, so he's made a preemptive strike._

Rossi had actually taken that as a positive, because it indicated some degree of self-awareness, and because the fact that Reid had pulled it off indicated that he _did_ have some control. He could only hope that Reid realized that.

The apartment had suffered the usual dishevelment of a crime scene investigation, with drawers hanging open, some overturned, their contents still lying spilled on whichever surface had caught them. Cabinet doors were ajar, clothes thrown from the closet onto the torn-apart bedding, a fine layer of dust settled over every surface on which a fingerprint might have been found.

Reid had barely flinched, except at the site of his beloved books strewn about, some tented upon the ground, their pages and spines pathetically bent. But, as still as he'd kept his features, he'd not been able to suppress his autonomic response. Rossi had watched his young friend go pale as he'd taken in the extent of the invasion into his privacy.

Not that it hadn't been pretty much obliterated for the duration and process of his incarceration. By that standard, the idea of fellow law enforcement looking at his things shouldn't have rattled Reid so much. But Rossi had long since come to realize how much refuge Reid took in his home, how much solace he'd found in his books. For Reid, companionship had been found there. Wisdom. Sanctuary.

Aware of the tenuous resolve of his companion, Rossi had hurried them through the inspection, announcing his intention to have a cleaning crew come through in the morning.

"Everything will be back in its place, there won't be a speck of dust left. It will look better than when you left it."

Immediately wanting to throttle himself, remembering the circumstances under which Reid had left it, and how long ago. Rossi had been immediately apologetic.

"I'm sorry. You know what I mean."

Reid had responded with gratitude.

"I do know what you mean. And, thank you. I wouldn't have known where to start."

Rossi had patted him on the back. "You're very welcome, my friend. Least I can do."

Reid's stoic mask had dropped, for just a moment, at that.

"Are you kidding? You've opened your home to me, and my mom, when we had nowhere to go. You found Roy, who's a gift all by himself. And now you're taking care of JJ." The young man had only been able to shake his head. "There's no 'least' about it. You've been a godsend, when I least deserved one. I won't ever be able to thank you enough."

Troubled at the words, Rossi had stared long enough to draw Reid's gaze to him.

"It's what friends do for one another, Spencer. There's no such thing as 'deserved'. You had a need, and I was able to meet it, simple as that. And I think I had all the thanks I will ever need, this afternoon."

At the confused look from Reid, Rossi had explained.

"When I came back from dropping Sandy off, and found you and JJ sound asleep on the porch. I've probably seen the two of you like that a thousand times on the plane, and not given it a second thought. But today….today, it was a thing of beauty."

That, finally, had drawn a small smile from the young genius.

"It felt good. We had nowhere else to be, and nothing else we could do, but heal. It felt almost normal."

"Almost?"

Reid gave him a wry look. "Well, we were on your porch, and not the plane. Both of us are still pretty beat up. We're still worried about Emily. We don't know what will happen with the team. Oh, and a crazed serial killer just tried to kill most of us."

Rossi chuckled. "Business as usual."

* * *

They had dinner family style, joined at the table by Diana, who'd awakened from her afternoon nap with an increasingly rare lucidity. Roy had finally departed, and his relief nurse arrived. Apparently he'd managed to convince the agency of the safety and security of this location, so his replacement was a woman, which was much more to Diana's liking.

"Although her name is masculine. I don't know why any mother would look at a beautiful little girl, and name her Lou."

JJ could relate. "Maybe it's just a nickname she acquired, short for Louise. I know my mother still insists on calling me Jennifer, but hardly anyone else ever does."

Diana looked at her. "Jennifer is a beautiful name. If Spencer had been a girl, it would have been _his_ name. Although my preference would have been to call him…her…Guinevere, but I allowed William to convince me that it was too medieval. So it was to be the modern version of the name."

This was news to the two youngest at the table…..Reid, that his mother had planned to give him the name of his best friend, and said best friend, at the root of her name.

"I never even knew….wow. Thank you, Diana. So, where did Spence's name come from?"

Reid knew the answer to that one. "It's a play on the name of the English poet, Edmond Spenser. His most famous work was The Fairie Queene."

Diana nodded. "Yes, it was a work designed to teach the virtues of the time, the things to which a young man should aspire…..holiness, chastity, temperance, justice, courtesy, and friendship."

Rossi raised his glass. "Those are virtues in _any_ time. And I'd like to make a toast to that last one."

The two younger agents followed his example and raised their glasses, and then Diana joined them, at a nudge from Reid.

"These past few months have been some of the longest and most difficult of my career, mostly because the very last thing they contained was justice. I'm not fool enough to think there aren't difficult times ahead, or that we are past this, by any means. But I am grateful to be here, celebrating Spencer's coming home, and JJ's healing….and friendship. One thing all of us know is that tomorrow is never guaranteed. So what better thing to do than to celebrate today, with good food, good wine, and good friends."

"Here, here." From JJ and Reid. Diana just looked confused. "I don't understand. Where was Spencer? Why did he need to come home?" Turning to Reid, she asked, "Is this where we live now, Spencer?"

JJ had seen some of this during Reid's incarceration, and she was sure he'd seen it beforehand. But Diana had been lucid for most of her waking moments since the time of her rescue, and here was the ugliness of Alzheimer's rearing its ugly, and unpredictable, head. She felt for her friend, and reached over to pat her support, unseen, on his knee.

Reid was grateful for the touch. He hadn't exactly forgotten about the dementia, but he also hadn't had such an unmistakable reminder of it, in the days since they'd been reunited. But he was long practiced in tending to Diana's departures from reality, and he immediately fell back into the role of caretaker.

"No, Mom, we don't live here. We're just staying for a few days, until my place is ready for us. It got….there was a problem in the building, and the apartment needs to be cleaned. Do you remember anything about that?"

"Have I ever been there?"

* * *

The following day, JJ insisted upon returning home, not wanting her mother worn down with caring for the boys. Reid agreed to take her there, after they stopped by the hospital to visit a recovering Emily, now in a private room.

From the passenger seat, JJ looked over to her friend.

"At least she doesn't remember." _Thank God for small favors._

"Yes, there's that. I just hope it doesn't come back to her, later on."

"Does that happen?"

"Sometimes. But if it does, at least she'll already be in a different situation."

JJ caught the inference. "Situation? Does that mean you've figured out that you can't keep her with you?"

Reid stole a glance at her. "I think I figured it out a long time ago. I was just having trouble acknowledging it."

"Well….whatever. I'm glad you got there. I mean, I'm sorry that it has to happen, but I don't think it would be good for either of you to try to make it work at your apartment."

"Yeah, well….it hasn't worked out all that well so far, has it?"

JJ picked up on the self-recrimination in his tone.

"You were only trying to help her, Spence. You did it for all the right reasons."

He shook his head. "Reason had nothing to do with it. I wasn't thinking straight, I was…."

"You were feeling. There's nothing wrong with that. You love your mother, and she loves you. So what if you let your emotion guide you for a while…at least that emotion was 'love'."

 _Not like Cat Adams, who has only ever been fueled by hate._

For what the woman had done to her best friend, and to the mother he loved, JJ could easily connect with hate. It was powerful, and sickening, and she couldn't even imagine having it as one's core.

Reid chanced diverting his eyes from the road long enough to look at her, and read her features immediately. He reached a hand over in gratitude.

"Thanks. But I need to start using my brain about this. Whether or not I come back to the BAU, it's clear I can't take care of her. I don't have the skills, and it's not fair to her."

There it was, hanging over them like a sword, the idea that he might have to leave the BAU. Or that he might choose to do so. Somewhere, deep inside, JJ knew that she loved him enough to let him go, if that was what was best. If that's what she had to do. But the surface emotion was anxiety. She would miss him terribly, feel isolated, and alone, even while still among friends. For although she also loved Emily Prentiss and Penelope Garcia, and even David Rossi, she'd never opened herself up to them quite the way she'd done with Reid. In truth, she'd probably never even opened up with Will quite the same way. She wasn't at all certain that she could stay in the job without the support of her best friend.

It was too challenging a topic for her to handle right now. Her head still hurt, she was emotionally on edge, and she could only imagine that he was as well. Better to stick with Diana, even if that topic was also emotionally laden.

"Are you thinking of sending her back to Bennington?"

He shook his head. "I would, if I thought they could handle her. But, as Rossi pointed out to me, she's already walked away from there once. She needs somewhere more secure, something designed for dementia."

"So….maybe closer to you, then? I …. I hope you don't mind, but I spoke with Cassie about it…before."

"Before my stupidity about my mother got her killed, you mean."

"Spence, please stop it! You didn't do anything wrong! You tried to take care of your mother, and then those two madwomen perpetrated their evil. You're not responsible for Cassie."

He wasn't having it. "If I hadn't been so stupid about it in the first place….it was foolish of me to think I could take care of my mother. It was hubris to think that I could find a medicine that her doctors couldn't. I cost Nadie Ramos her life, _and_ Cassie."

JJ's hands went to her head, which was pounding. Reid noticed and alarmed, pulled over to the curb.

"Are you all right?"

She didn't answer the question, too intent on making her point.

"You did not kill either of those women. Lyndsey Vaughn did that, at the behest of her lover. You do _not_ get to own that."

Reid broke eye contact, feeling the intensity of her gaze. She didn't understand.

"Lyndsey Vaughn is a product of her environment. She was raised by a gangster. Violence was all she ever knew, and then she fell under the spell of a hitwoman. For that matter, Cat is a product of her own childhood. No matter what I said to her, I can't hate her."

JJ leaned forward, resting her aching head in her hands. If he hadn't bent close to tend to her, her words would have been too soft to hear.

"But you can hate yourself."

"What?"

She sat up again, and nailed him in her line of sight. "You can hate yourself. You can't hate these women who killed two others, and who knows how many more, because you can find a way to forgive them. But you can't forgive yourself."

"JJ…"

"No, Spence, hear me out, please." She waited for him to settle back behind the wheel, acquiescing. "We're _all_ the product of our environment, and our upbringing. We all have difficulties to look back on, and you have more than many. The difference is, some of us use our past as an excuse, and some of use it as a _reason_. There's a _reason_ why you, and I, and all of our friends, have gone into the business we have. None of us left childhood unscathed. But we turned whatever hurt us into a motivation to help other people. That's what makes us different. That's what makes _you_ different from Lyndsey and Cat. Neither of those women is unintelligent. They each had the ability to make a choice, and they did so. I don't want to hear you owning the evil they chose. You did what you did for love. Please don't ever regret that."

She brushed impatiently at the tears of frustration….and pain…that had escaped her eyes. This wasn't the time for him to appease her out of pity. It was important that he understand what she was saying to him. Important that he _believe_ it.

But his response belied her failure to convince him.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry. Let's just ….. let's just go and wish Emily well, and then I want to get you home. Unless you've changed your mind. Are you sure you're ready to be around the boys? They've not exactly mastered the art of staying quiet, have they?"

She recognized the attempt at diversion, and had no choice but to give in. She wasn't at her best, and they were both too emotionally raw. But JJ would remember this exchange, word for word. She'd known there would be a battle ahead, raging within her best friend. This had given her a glimpse of the battleground. She could strategize now. Right after she figured out how to get her head to stop hurting.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 7**_

Reid knocked gently on the door to Emily Prentiss' hospital room, as JJ slid in under his arm.

"Hi."

Their brunette unit chief looked surprisingly intact, given the fact that she'd had life-saving surgery forty-eight hours ago.

"Hey, you two, it's good to see you."

If not in her face, the ordeal was evident in Emily's voice. JJ walked quickly over to the bed, and took the outstretched hand of her friend-come-superior.

"How are you doing, Em?"

Emily waved her free hand back and forth. "Mezza-mezza. I'll live."

Reid came around to the other side of the bed. "Are you in much pain?"

"Not as much as yesterday. They tell me it's normal, and every day will be better than the one before. They even think I'll be able to work in a few weeks."

She turned her gaze to her blonde colleague.

"How are _you_? _Brain_ surgery?"

JJ smiled as she minimized. "Yep. Too bad they couldn't make me be like Spence while they were in there, but no such luck. I'm still me."

"Thank God," said her best friend, before he had a chance to stop himself.

Emily looked back and forth between her two old friends. She'd known them too long, and was too good at reading people, not to catch the subtext. But, like JJ, she wasn't in any condition to deal with it. Instead, she had some news.

"Cruz stopped by on his way in. The team is standing down indefinitely, at least as far as away cases go. Each of us will return from medical leave when we're cleared. Until we've got everyone back, it will be case review, both new and cold cases."

Reid asked, too quickly, "Does that include me?"

Emily could tell he was anxious. She just couldn't tell if he was anxious _to_ come back, or anxious _about_ coming back.

"Apparently, there is to be a meeting with Cruz, HR, ethics and, possibly, the deputy director. And you're on the menu."

Reid reddened. "Am I expected to be there? You know, so they can bite into me?"

Emily tried to make her smile encouraging. "Cruz will let both of us know, I'm sure. But don't worry about it. You didn't do anything wrong in Mexico. There wasn't anything in that…. concoction….that was illicit. The only thing you did was to cross the border without giving official notice. I'm pretty sure that's happened a few thousand times, what with all the resorts down there. It's just that they don't usually find out about it."

Reid wasn't so sure he was in the clear. "But I did have heroin and cocaine in my system. Did Lyndsey admit to injecting it while I was unconscious?"

Of the three, only Emily had been with Lyndsey at the take-down. And neither Reid nor JJ had heard Cat Adams admit to it. They turned to their friend, and were troubled at the look of concern on her face.

"I don't….." Emily shook her head. "I don't remember. But the others were there. Maybe they will."

Reid gave brief thought to whether his mother might have overheard something, but it was unlikely she'd be given any credence anyway.

The young man heaved his shoulders in a sigh. "Well, then, I guess it may not be much of a choice, for anyone. The Bureau can't very well pretend that it doesn't know I've had drugs in my system."

JJ feared he might be right, but she couldn't think about it. The injustice of it would have been too big for her, even when she was at her best. And she was far from her best.

"Spence, please don't talk about not coming back. None of this was your fault, the FBI will see that, somehow. We'll find a way to _make_ them see it. Unless…..unless you've decided you don't want to?"

"I haven't decided anything, except that it's too soon for me to _make_ a decision. I hope the FBI will see it the way you do, and that I'll actually _have_ a choice. But they make rules for a reason. And I broke some of them."

Emily chimed in on that one.

"Hmph. If you want to start keeping track of rule-breaking, you'll need to stand in line behind the rest of us. I'm pretty sure I can think of a time or two, or seven or eight, when each of us have done it."

"But none so spectacularly as me. Did anyone else end up in prison over it?"

"That wasn't your fault. They can't blame you for that." His best friend was getting frustrated with him all over again.

"I'm pretty sure they can do what they want, JJ. I'm just hoping that what they want is to forgive and forget."

"Well….Matt will work on that. I'm sure he already is. He's pretty persuasive when he wants to be."

"Let's hope so."

"So," said Emily, changing the subject just a bit, "you _will_ have to see someone. Therapist, counselor, whatever. They'll expect that, at the very least."

He nodded. "I know. And I'm okay with it. Do you think they would let me choose who I want to see?"

The women exchanged a look, before Emily voiced it. "You have a preferred therapist?"

He looked briefly from one to the other, in unwarranted embarrassment.

"I… Hotch recommended someone for me, after Maeve."

JJ would have slapped her forehead, if she hadn't thought the pain would kill her.

 _Of course, you idiot!_

Emily processed the idea quickly. "I'll make sure they do. Go ahead and make an appointment. Do I need to send a referral?"

"Maybe, to make it official. I'll send you her information. Her name is Anna Hughes."

"Okay, will do, right away."

"Emily, you're in a hospital bed. It can wait."

In another circumstance, she might have agreed with him. But she knew how important it was to the success of therapy to get it started when the person needing it was most willing to accept it. And she also knew Reid. He liked to work his problems out on his own. The sooner he connected, the better.

"I have been informed that, as of tomorrow, I will no longer occupy a hospital bed."

'What?!" exclaimed Reid. "You just had major surgery after a life-threatening injury!"

She shrugged. "I guess they move fast these days. Honestly, I wouldn't mind getting out of here, so I can get some rest. They're checking my blood pressure every four hours."

JJ gave a wry smile. "I can testify to how quickly they kick you out of the hospital these days. But I'm with you, Em. I'd rather be home."

Reid took the hint. "Which is where I promised to get you, although I doubt you'll be able to sleep with the boys around." Turning back to Emily, he asked, "What about you? Should you spend a day or two at Rossi's too? He's got the room, and it's quiet. And you wouldn't be alone."

"Don't I wish. But, alas, I will need to recuperate at my own place. The Ambassador is coming."

"Your mother?" Reid knew how tenuous Emily's relationship with her mother could be.

"The very. Apparently she was called as 'next-of-kin' in my personnel file. So she's arriving via her friend's private jet, coming to nurse me back to health."

JJ was aware of the relationship too. "Look at it this way, Em. At least you'll be motivated to heal quickly."

The three chuckled at that, and then said their goodbyes. Emily promised to make Reid's referral as soon as possible, and to keep him apprised of his status with the FBI.

"Don't lose any sleep over it. I'm sure good sense will prevail."

Reid threw a response back over his shoulder. "I guess it has to start sometime."

* * *

"How's your head?"

JJ minimized again. "It hurts, but it's not like the other day, if that's what you're worried about. They said I'd have a headache for a week or more."

"I'm sorry if I made it worse, before. Getting upset increases your blood pressure, which causes increased blood flow to the head, and that makes your head hurt."

She gave him a wry smile. "Glad to know there's an explanation. And, for the record, I'm not upset with you. I just don't like you taking more onto your shoulders than you have to. You've got enough to deal with."

When he was silent for far too long after that, JJ gave him a verbal nudge.

"You're worried about the drug thing, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." A look in JJ's direction told him that his being honest would be less upsetting to her. "All right, yes, I am. I keep going over it in my head, what Cat said. And I can only remember that she said Lyndsey had knocked me out, and then she….well, you were there, you heard it. And we proved her wrong on the rest of it. But I don't think Cat ever confessed that Lyndsey had injected me with the heroin and cocaine. What if the FBI thinks I was already high, when Lyndsey found me with Nadie Ramos?"

JJ understood what he was saying. It was all she'd been able to think about, since it had come up in their conversation with Emily.

"Maybe we can look at the transcripts. We had Garcia on the phone by then, didn't we?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. There might only be the video surveillance recording, and that set-up was so old, it's probably not even digital."

It wasn't sounding promising. If they couldn't dismiss the drug issue, the FBI would want to question him about it, before making a decision on reinstatement. And they both knew, though neither could speak about it, that he couldn't undergo questioning about drug use without putting his job, and those of the others, in jeopardy.

 _And he'll never let that happen._

"Maybe we can work on Lyndsey, and get her to admit it. It might be a bargaining chip for her."

Reid kept his eyes straight ahead. "The FBI doesn't have a reason to need a bargaining chip, does it? That privilege belongs to me." Recrimination in his voice.

His peripheral vision caught her hand rubbing at her forehead, and he was immediately apologetic again.

"Let's talk about something else, okay? It's not helping either of us to think about things we can't control."

JJ nodded slowly, lest she jostle her brain. "Agreed. And there _is_ something else I wanted to tell you about…although I'm not sure it fits the 'control' criteria."

He looked over and smiled. "I'm all ears. Go ahead."

JJ took a moment to consider her words. "Well, we were talking before about your mom, and where it would be best for her to live. And I started to tell you that I'd spoken with Cassie about it."

She chanced a glance in his direction, and saw him suppress a reaction at the name. Immediately, she regretted distressing him again. But she knew that dealing with Diana was a necessary first step in his recovery, and so she proceeded.

"She had a few ideas about places. I took some notes, and looked up a few of them on line. There are two really promising ones, although they're both closer to my place than yours. But they specialize in memory care, so I thought you might want to look at them. My mother has been to one of them, to visit a friend."

"Your mom has a friend with dementia?" Sandy and Diana were close to the same age, although JJ's mother had retained her youth better than had Diana.

JJ again nodded, slowly. "It's tragic. She's only sixty, and she's been deteriorating for seven years already. Her husband tried to take care of her at home, but it got too dangerous to leave her alone, even for a short time."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I wonder…do you know if they handle patients with dual diagnoses?"

"Mom might. You can talk with her about it when we get there."

"If she's talking to me at all. It was stupid of me not to call her right away."

A great sigh came from the seat next to him.

"If someone doesn't stop bashing my best friend, I might have to bash _him_."

* * *

He needn't have worried. As they arrived to the LaMontagne home, Sandy ran to meet them at the car. She fussed over her daughter as she helped her from the car and then escorted JJ into the house.

Reid wasn't sure if he was supposed to follow, or just leave, when Sandy turned and called over her shoulder, "Apricot chicken for lunch!"

When JJ turned and looked back at him, smiling, he realized the two women had colluded. It was definitely not coincidence that Sandy had cooked his favorite dish.

 _I guess I'm forgiven._

Reid grabbed JJ's bag from the back seat, and followed the women into the house. The very quiet house.

"The boys aren't home?"

Sandy settled JJ into a chair. Reid suppressed a smile at his friend's show of meekness in the presence of her mother's determination to coddle her.

Sandy replied to him. "Henry is in school, and Michael is down for his nap. I'm glad you brought Jennifer home while he's still sleeping, so she can rest for a bit before he wants to climb all over her."

"To tell you the truth, Mom, I think that might be the best thing for me."

Reid agreed with her, but he wasn't about to push his luck with Sandy. So he compromised.

"Rossi offered to have her stay, but she really wanted to get home with the boys. I think she misses them as much as they miss her."

"That they do. But she's got a tendency to overdo, especially when she's supposed to be healing."

"Hello!" came from the overstuffed chair holding the blonde profiler. "You don't have to speak about me in the third person...I'm actually in the room! And I have an opinion."

"What you have, young lady, is a concussion….not to mention brain surgery…..and a mother who isn't about to risk your going back to the hospital. I want you to promise me that you'll let me do the work around here, until you're feeling better. Spencer, tell her."

"Uh….hmm…. uh….the…something smells delicious! Can I set the table?"


	8. Chapter 8

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 8**_

Reid spent the next two days researching possible placements for his mother, while skillfully avoiding the topic when speaking with her. He elicited recommendations from both Roy and Luz, previously known as 'Lou'.

"She's so sweet, Spencer. And it turns out I was wrong about her name. It's Spanish, and it means 'light'. Isn't that beautiful?"

Diana's periods of lucidity were becoming shorter, and less frequent. Reid couldn't tell if that represented the natural progression of her illness, or if the symptoms had been accelerated by her ordeal. He asked Luz about her experience with dementia patients.

"Is this how it is? Because it feels like it's progressing quickly. But I don't know if that's because I was away from her for so long, and didn't see the gradual decline, or if her being kidnapped has made this happen."

Luz had no answers for him, mostly because there were none to be had.

"I only started working with your mother here, after she'd been rescued. She was remarkably lucid at the time, to the point where I wondered if I'd been misinformed. I have seen it before, in patients who have had to face a significant stressor. They become hyper-focused, and it's as if they have found some reserve of clarity in their minds. But, once the stress is over, they revert to baseline. I suspect we're simply seeing that, Dr. Reid. I think your mother is declining, but the steepness of that decline is unique to the individual. I'm sorry that I can't be more helpful to you."

Reid assured her. "It's nothing to apologize for, it's just the way it is. You are extraordinarily helpful to me, just by looking after her. She's taken to you, I think."

Luz smiled. "And I, to her. She's so brilliant! And she loves to tell stories, and to read aloud, and to teach. I feel like I should actually be able to earn some college credit just by working with her!"

He laughed. "Well, if not, she'll definitely prepare you for the real thing. Mom was a professor of medieval literature, before she was sick."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Reid. When I meet patients, they are usually already quite different from their former selves. I can only imagine your sense of loss."

Reid's sense of loss dated back to his childhood, but there was no point in telling Luz. He simply nodded, and asked about her knowledge of memory care facilities.

"There are a few, but there are only a couple that I usually recommend." She mentioned the two JJ had already told him about. "And, of them, my choice would be Mountain Laurel. It's bright, and they seem to know how to allow their patients to engage with activities, or not, to their own preference. It's where I would bring a family member, if I ever had to make that choice, please God."

"I hope you don't ever face this, Luz. But, if you do, I know you'll handle it with the same grace you've used with my mother. I couldn't be more grateful for how you've been with her. And, on your say so, I'll take a look at Mountain Laurel."

* * *

Two days later, Reid, Sandy and JJ toured the facility. It was as bright as Luz had described, with enough activities to meet a diverse set of interests. Most important to Reid was that Diana would have her own room, with a small bookshelf and room to bring in a few more. And there was an expansive library, along with several enclosed acres of gardens.

"Your mom will love this, Spence, won't she?"

JJ had never actually seen Bennington but, from what Reid had described to her, she imagined it looked very similar.

"She'll love the library. And she always did like to sit in the sun and write her journal. Of course, that was in Las Vegas, where she could pretty much count on sun and warmth every day."

Sandy assured him. "You remember that huge fireplace we saw in the great room? My friend's family says it's lit most of the winter, and many of the residents enjoy sitting in front of it."

Reid smiled. "I don't know that she's ever seen a working fireplace. We didn't exactly need them in Las Vegas. But I'm sure she won't mind having a new experience. I hope. I don't know, maybe this is all wrong. Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe…"

Sandy put a hand on his arm. "Spencer, I know for a fact that your mother would rather be near you. She and I spent some time together the other day, when Jennifer first came back to stay at the house. She seemed pretty aware that day, and we were talking about our children. There was a moment when she took my hand, and leaned in, and whispered to me. She said, "I love him more than he knows. And I am so grateful for whatever time we have together. But I don't want to be a burden to him. Never a burden." I knew exactly what she meant, because I feel the same way."

JJ jumped in with, "Mom, you're never a burden! If anything, you're a lifesaver. What would I do without you?"

Sandy smiled. "The time may come, Honey. And if it does, I want you to remember this conversation." She directed her next words toward their male companion. "Just as your mother would want you to know what she said to me. I wonder, now, if she realized how fleeting her clarity might be. Maybe she told me that so that I could say it to you. So now, I have."

Reid nodded his thanks, the only means of communication he could manage at the moment. Sandy's recounting of his mother's words had stolen his voice. Sometimes he wondered if Diana's ailments had also made her clairvoyant. She so often seemed to know exactly what he needed to hear, and when he needed to hear it.

 _Or maybe it's just part of the job description. Hasn't she always told me, 'a mother knows'?_

The women left in their own vehicle while Reid met with the director of the facility. An hour later, his questions answered, paperwork completed and an empowering tour arranged for his mother, Reid headed off to his next task of the day. True to her word, Emily had made his referral to Anna Hughes. Today was to be his first appointment.

* * *

The office hadn't changed. It was still a one-woman operation with a small, but bright, outer waiting area, and an inner office large enough to accommodate a sizeable desk, several comfortable chairs and a sofa. The walls were lined with bookshelves. To Reid, it looked inviting, exactly the type of office he'd like to have, if ever he should have an office.

 _That day may come sooner than you think, Spencer, if the FBI sends you looking for employment._

Like his colleagues, he'd sometimes wondered what he would do if he left profiling. He'd long since decided that it would be something outside the FBI. The safe money was on him becoming a university professor, and he could see himself doing that. But all he ever really pictured himself doing was sitting in an office, just like the one he'd just entered, reading or writing, or thinking.

"Dr. Reid? Did you hear me?"

Her voice invaded his daydream.

"Oh! Sorry….I was just admiring your space."

She smiled. "I seem to recall that from before. I'm so glad you could come back to visit."

At his look of bemusement, she corrected herself.

"Oh, no….I didn't mean that I'm glad you need to see me again. It's just…. I'm glad you've been exonerated. I have to admit, I was shocked, and very worried, when I saw the headlines."

His ordeal had lasted nearly four months. In that time, he'd been frightened, confused, angry, frustrated, lonely, despairing, terrified. He'd had too little to occupy his mind, beyond his circumstance, and had ruminated endlessly. But he'd not once considered this. And no one else had brought it up.

"It was in the _newspaper_?!"

Immediately, she realized her faux pas. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you didn't know. I'm so sorry. I'm supposed to be helping you, not giving you more to worry about."

"No, don't apologize. It was stupid of me not to realize. Of course it would have been in the news, an FBI agent arrested for murder."

 _I guess you can forget about applying for any of those other jobs, genius._

Aloud, he asked, "I suppose you haven't seen any articles about me being exonerated?"

She waved him into one of the chairs as she responded. "No such luck. But maybe I just missed it. Good news doesn't seem to make the headlines. Again, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have distracted you. I did receive a referral from Emily Prentiss. She's replaced Aaron Hotchner as your unit chief?"

Reid trusted Anna Hughes implicitly. But Hotch's safety depended upon discretion, and so all he did was to acknowledge the new situation in the BAU.

"Okay, well, she didn't provide much information, so why don't you give me the background."

The last time he'd met with the therapist, he'd been ravaged by the loss of Maeve, his emotions raw, his grief an open wound. Anna had helped him to explore it, to find its depth, and the jagged edges of the space it had opened up. The process had been difficult, and painful, and he'd wept more than once. But, in Anna's gentle hands, it had also been healing, and necessary. Just as he hoped it would be again.

So he told her, sticking with the facts, so she would know the breadth of it. His mother's diagnosis, his determination to help her, his folly in bringing her to DC. Then he told her about Mexico, both what he could remember, and what he'd been told. And then he told her about prison. About both prisons. But only the facts.

It had taken nearly their entire scheduled time, but Anna wouldn't have been much of a therapist if she'd let him go without giving him something to work with.

"All right, Spencer. I'd like to ask you to think about something, until we meet again. And I think that should be soon. Do you think you can swing two or three days a week with me?"

"I'll do whatever you tell me to do. You're the expert here."

She grinned. "Glad someone thinks so. I have trouble convincing some of my clients. All right, so here is what I want you to think about: Why do bad things happen to good people?"

His brows went up. "Are you kidding? You mean, like the book?"

"You've read it?"

"No, but I've read Bonhoeffer."

"I don't really want to know what Bonhoeffer thought. I want to know what Spencer Reid thinks. But, here, let's start with something more basic. When you come back, just be ready to answer this question: _Do_ bad things happen to good people? Or does what happens to us define the type of person we are?"

She rose, indicating that the hour was up. He followed suit, shaking his head.

"How do you do that?" She'd gotten right to heart of it, and they both knew it.

She smiled as she held the door for him. "Practice."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A.N. Forgot to add this after the last chapter: If the name Anna Hughes (Reid's therapist) sounds familiar, it's because she made an appearance in 'Transitions'.**_

 _ **Having a few days off has given me a chance to get some background chapters up pretty quickly, and move the story along a little bit. Alas, those days off are now ended. Hoping to be steady in updating the rest of this, albeit more slowly.**_

* * *

 _ **Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 9**_

"Do you want me to come over and help you talk with her about it? Will's back, he can drive me."

JJ wouldn't be cleared to be behind the wheel until after her next follow up with the neurosurgeon.

"I think it should probably just be me. But thanks for offering."

"Okay. I just thought, if it was tough…well, she and I got along pretty well, while you were gone."

Remembering some tender moments between the two. They had, after all, shared both love and concern for Spencer.

"I think we'll be okay. And Rossi's here, if I need back up." Changing the subject, he added, "Will must have been pretty shocked when he saw you with the bandage."

"I warned him on the phone, but I think the bandage is still pretty impressive. So I'm milking it, but don't tell him!"

Reid laughed. "You pride yourself on being tough. No way you're milking anything. And, for the record, you _are_ tough, coming back from something like that so quickly."

"Master of rebound, am I. You don't do so bad yourself, my friend."

He snorted. "I'm the one going to therapy, remember?" Which reminded him. "JJ, there was something Anna said today….I never even thought to ask, but….. was my case in the news?"

The question was met with a telling silence, which he quickly filled. "How much?"

She found her voice. "I wouldn't even have known about it, if not for Will. He saw a headline, both in the paper and on line. And it made the evening news, both local and national."

She could hear his sharp intake of breath, and was quick to offer what little assurance she had.

"It wasn't the top story. It was buried somewhere in the middle, if that's any consolation."

It wasn't. "I just…I never even thought about it, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I just wish they could say that I'd been exonerated. It will be pretty hard to apply for a new job with that hanging over my head, and I can't afford to be without an income."

"Spence, I told you, the FBI will understand. We'll _make_ them understand."

"I hope you're right, but I'd be a fool not to be prepared. And you've already told me what you'll do to anyone who calls me a fool."

Hoping to tease her into dropping the issue. At least the teasing felt familiar. And good.

"You're not a fool, and I guess I understand. I can ask Garcia to see if there was anything published when the charges were dropped, or…wait!"

He'd heard the snap of her fingers through the phone. "Wait, what?"

"I wasn't the BAU liaison for all those years for nothing. I've still got some contacts, at least with the DC papers. And a few people who still owe me favors. Let me see what I can do."

Most of him wanted to leap at the offer, but the sensible part of him didn't want her to take the risk.

"JJ, maybe you shouldn't. If they decide to come down on me, they may look around for someone else to go after, too."

"There'd be no reason to be upset with me. I'm just seeing that the FBI gets credit for correcting the wrongful arrest of one of their agents. What's not to like?"

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, "I'd forgotten how good you are at putting a spin on things. Remind me never to cross you, okay?"

"Never cross me."

* * *

Picking a time for discussing Mountain Laurel with Diana proved not to be as straightforward as he would have liked. Reid had to wait until she demonstrated enough clarity that she would understand, and it was vitally important to him that she also assent. He'd already placed her once against her will. He didn't think either of them could live through his doing it again. He watched and waited, and hoped and dreaded the arrival of that right time, until it came.

Rossi had been at the BAU all day, arriving home with an aromatic collection of bags in his arms.

"Mario doesn't usually do take out, but he makes an exception for an old friend."

"That smells amazing!" Reid mused that, between the Jareau women and David Rossi, he just might regain the weight he'd lost in prison.

"Go get your mom, and I'll set the table."

David Rossi had sacrificed his well-protected privacy this past week. It should have been getting under his skin by now, but it wasn't.

 _Maybe it's because I finally feel useful._

He transferred the food into serving dishes, opened a bottle of his favorite red, and was just placing the last of the silverware when Diana and Reid joined him at the table.

"Oh, my," said Diana, "this looks and smells wonderful!"

"You can thank my good friend Mario for that. He's almost as good a cook as I am."

Diana smiled, recognizing the joke. Which told Reid that she was having a good period.

 _Now if it can only last until after dinner._

It would have been hard to make small talk, if not for Rossi. Reid wasn't ready to tell his mother how he'd spent his day. He wanted to approach the topic of her next residence gently. And he didn't want to bring up his visit with Anna Hughes, either. Diana's damaged mind had proven to be very finicky in acquiring and keeping the memory of her unexpected separation from her son, and whatever trauma she'd suffered during the kidnapping. Seemingly at random, there were times when she remembered part of it, and some when she did not. But even when she remembered, she might forget again, by the end of the conversation. It had made Reid wonder if she was actively repressing, not just what had happened to _him_ , but whatever Lyndsey and Wilkins might have done to _her_.

 _I might never know. I don't want to upset her with it when she doesn't remember, and I can't trust whatever she says when she does. I can only hope she loses the memory permanently._

And so he prayed, once again, to a God he didn't believe in, that she should have at least that small mercy granted to her.

Rossi managed to keep the conversation going by telling them about Mario, and how he'd gotten started in the restaurant business. Then he moved on to several stories about how he himself had learned the basics of cooking from his sainted mother and grandmother.

Diana formed her features into her version of a smile. "That's nice, David. It's important that family pass things on from one generation to the next, isn't it, Spencer?"

"Sure is, Mom. Just like you passed your love of literature on to me."

Hoping, silently, that there were things she _hadn't_ passed on to him.

When they were finished, Reid begged off helping with the dishes, so that he might take his mother upstairs to their shared sitting room.

"There's something we need to talk about."

Rossi nodded, as Diana preceded her son up the stairs. "Good luck, my young friend."

* * *

Reid got Diana settled into an easy chair, and then pulled up a footstool, so that he could be directly in front of her.

"Mom,…."

She spoke right over him. "Spencer, I've been thinking…"

He yielded to her. "What is it, Mom?"

"I've been thinking about your apartment. Honey, it's so small, and there really isn't room for my things. I've even displaced you from your own bed. I think it would be better if I lived somewhere else."

He tried to parse her words. She hadn't suggested that both of them move, to a larger apartment. She'd used the singular pronoun, verbally separating herself from him. A long look into her eyes told him it had been purposeful.

"Mom, are you saying that you don't want to live with me?"

Diana reached out her hands to cradle her son's face. "It's not that I don't want to, sweetheart. I just don't think it's practical."

He stared at her. "Because of space." Testing the idea.

"Because of space, and other things. The very last thing I want, in the twilight of my life, is to become a burden to my son, whom I love the most in all the world."

"Mom…" Ready to protest.

"Hush, Spencer. We both know I'm right. I obviously need more care than you can give me, or we wouldn't have Luz with us here, would we? And your work is important. I don't want to take you from it. So, I think I should find somewhere that can help me when I need it, and not get in the way when I don't. Will you help me, sweetheart?"

It felt like too much of a coincidence, and he was suspicious. "Did anyone talk to you about this? Anyone say anything about it at all?"

"No, honey. I just thought it was time that we discussed it."

"Are you sure? Because…."

"I told you, Spencer, a mother knows. Now, will you help me?"

His eyes glistened as he cast a sad, grateful smile her way. "Of course I will. As a matter of fact, there are a couple of good places we should look at. They're closer to JJ's place than mine, but they're still close enough that I could visit you all the time. Would you like to see them?"

She would. The following day, he arranged tours of both places. Cedar Ridge was nice enough, but Mountain Laurel won the day. Reid wasn't surprised. During his prior visit, he'd seen the Margery Kempe on the bookshelf in the library, and known right away that it was his mother's kind of place.

* * *

The decision made, Reid's next dilemma was about whether to bring his mother back to his newly-cleaned apartment, to help pack her things, or whether he should pack on his own, and simply deliver her directly to Mountain Laurel. He'd been leaning toward the latter, when Diana took things into her own hands.

Luz came down to the kitchen one morning to announce, "Your mother is ready."

Reid looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading. Scouring, actually, looking for evidence that JJ had exacted her payment from her reporter contacts. Nothing had appeared so far.

"Ready? For what?"

"She said you were taking us to your apartment, so we can pack her things."

"I am?"

Luz was embarrassed at having been duped by Diana. "I'm sorry, I should have asked you first."

Reid waved it away. "No worries. So…..do you think she really wants to go there? Do _you_ want to go there? It's where Cassie was when…."

Luz didn't let him finish. "I know. And I guess I might be a little nervous, if we weren't going to have an FBI agent with us. But, as long as you're there, I'm okay with it. And I can help her."

Reid was still hesitant. "It's just that…I'm not sure she remembers much, not for long anyway. And I don't really want to change that."

"If you'd prefer, I can take her out to the garden, and you can just pack without us."

He considered it for a moment before deciding. "I think I should let her make her own decisions for as long as she has a mind to…literally. So, okay, I'll take us over there, and we'll all pack her things."

Luz grinned. "Can I be honest with you? I was hoping you'd say that. I know it might be traumatic for her. But the loss of control is even more traumatic. I'm glad you're giving her control, while she can still enjoy it."

He smiled back at her. "Your parents certainly chose the right name for you, Luz. You bring light into her life. And you illuminate mine. Thank you."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 10**_

Reid studied his mother in the rearview mirror, looking for any sign that she recognized the neighborhood, any sign of anxiety….well, any sign of anxiety beyond her baseline. But there was nothing.

 _I guess she wasn't really outside all that much. I know I didn't bring her anywhere after I moved her in. I was afraid to, if I'm honest._

But three more months had passed while he'd been in prison. Not that he'd expected JJ to entertain his mother, but hadn't any of the nurses even brought her outside? Even Cassie? He began to wonder if Diana's outing to the prison with her kidnapper had been her first excursion from his apartment.

 _All the more proof that she can't live with me. I can't work and entertain her. More to the point, I can't contain her. And I can't expect a nurse to do it, either. She needs the freedom of movement that Mountain Laurel will give her, at the same time that it keeps her safe._

He pulled to the curb in front of his apartment building, and got out, circling the car to open the doors for Diana and Luz.

He offered his arm to his mother. "We're here, Mom. Do you remember this place?"

"Why wouldn't I? Isn't this where you live?"

 _Just yesterday, you didn't remember if you'd ever been here._

"Yes, you're right. I do. So, do you want to go inside?"

Still studying her features for tell-tale signs. But they'd been so long carved into a visage of anguish that it was hard for even a profiler to read anything else in them. If Diana was remembering or reacting to her ordeal with Lyndsey Vaughn, she was keeping it well hidden.

Inside the building, Reid ran ahead while Luz helped his mother up the stairs. The apartment was as he'd left it, still cluttered with the few items of furniture his mother had kept with her at Bennington, but absent any sign of a criminal investigation having taken place. He'd noticed the crime scene tape removed from the apartment down the hall, from which Lyndsey had stalked him, and where Cassie had been killed. At the thought of it, he shivered involuntarily, and then wondered if _he_ would be able to remain in the place he'd called 'home' for the past twelve years. He'd been intellectually aware of how often surviving victims or families seemed to move away from the places where their lives had fallen apart. Now he was becoming viscerally aware of it, and he wasn't sure whether he would be the exception to the rule.

Entering the apartment, Diana wandered about the living area, lifting an occasional item, studying it, and then putting it down. From time to time, she held one close to her body for a long moment, eyes closed. To Reid, it looked as if she was trying to memorize them. Memorize _him_.

In time, she noticed the memory book, set back to rights by Reid several days ago, lying on the coffee table. The photograph whose backing had been marked by Lyndsey had been reattached, the XX-XY hidden beneath a coating of white-out liquid. Diana sat on the sofa, drew the book to her lap, and started paging through it, visiting images that seemed new, if vaguely familiar, to her failing mind.

"That's your memory book, Mom. You've kept it since you were a girl. Do you want to go through it?"

Abruptly, she closed the cover. "No."

Reid stole a glance at Luz, who shook her head to indicate that he shouldn't push.

"Okay, then. Maybe after you're settled at Mountain Laurel."

"Maybe."

She'd been so delighted when he'd had the memory book delivered from Vegas. Now she seemed completely disinterested and detached from it. He had a moment of consternation that she was angry with him, angry with the move.

 _Or maybe she's just flat._

He was used to flatness. In his childhood, it had been a good thing, because it meant that she was taking her meds. Now, he couldn't be sure. It could be either of her illnesses, or neither of them. It could last for a few minutes, or forever, and he wouldn't be able to tell, until they'd lived it together. The tragedy of this diabolical hijacking of Diana's mind stabbed at his heart, but it didn't stop him. It couldn't. He couldn't let it. For both of their sakes.

Reid didn't want to rush her, but he also didn't know how laborious a process it would be, trying to pack with his mother's 'assistance'. It was best if they get started.

"So, would you like to go into the bedroom to choose some of your things to pack? I can bring the rest of them over after you get settled. I think there will even be room for most of the furniture."

Diana said nothing, but rose and walked into the bedroom. Most of her smaller possessions were here, but she seemed to recognize only a few of them. Or maybe she only valued those few of them. Reid took note of the ones she'd touched, intending to bring those items along for the initial move. Then he retrieved a suitcase from under the bed and laid it open.

"I can pack with Diana," offered Luz.

Reid was grateful for the help, as it would allow him to respond to the text he'd just received from Emily.

DEPUTY DIRECTOR'S OFFICE AT FOUR. I CAN BE THERE IF YOU'LL PICK ME UP. NO DRIVING YET. EXCEPT ME, CRAZY, BY MY MOTHER.

He would have laughed at the end of the message, if the beginning of it hadn't made him so nervous. He decided talking would be better than texting.

"Reid?"

"Can you talk? Freely, I mean?" Code for, 'is your mother hovering over you?'.

"She's resting. It's like she thinks the discharge orders were for _her_."

He gave a brief chuckle, and then got right to the point.

"So, should I take this as a good thing, being summoned to a meeting with the deputy director? I mean, if they wanted to fire me, they would have just done it, no discussion. Right?"

He couldn't see her shrug. "I'm reading between the lines as much as you are, but that would be my guess, yes. But I think you should be prepared to do some groveling first."

"Assumed. I can't argue with them. I did the wrong thing. I was stupid. It didn't even occur to me that I was violating policy."

"You might not want to tell them that. They think all of us have got the full handbook memorized."

"I _do_. That's how I know they're right. I was just too preoccupied to think about it."

Now he couldn't see her smile, either. But, just for the space of these few moments, he'd sounded so much like himself. Maybe he _would_ find a way back to the life he'd known.

"Okay, 'preoccupied' might work. 'Sick with worry' might work even better."

The irony of trying to find the most acceptable words to describe a dilemma in which he was still mired was not lost on either of them. Nor was the fact that the 'dilemma' happened to be the human being who'd given him life.

"I'll just apologize and tell him I know how foolish I was, and I'm sorry that I reflected poorly on the FBI."

"Okay, that might work, as long as Cruz or I remind him that none of what you did was illegal. I can also make the point that Lyndsey was operating on both sides of the border. She could just as easily have framed you while you were in Houston."

He couldn't let that go without taking a swipe at himself. "That's right. Because I was just as stupid and careless on the US side of the border as I was in Mexico."

"Reid…."

"Sorry. Never mind. So, okay, I'll pick you up at three. I have to take my mom to her new residence as soon as we finish packing, and then I'll swing by from there."

"Good luck. I hope she settles in well there."

"That makes two of us."

* * *

They'd returned briefly to Rossi's, so Luz could retrieve her car. With Reid called away to his meeting, she would stay as long as necessary with Diana, to help smooth the transition.

At Mountain Laurel, Reid was pleased that they'd been met at the front entrance by the director, who'd personally escorted Diana to her room. Shortly afterward, her primary nurse, Jill, came by to introduce herself and show Diana how to navigate the hallways to the community rooms.

"It will become easier to remember in a few days. Until then, just call me, and I'll bring you wherever you need to go."

At the look of surprise on Reid's face, she told him, "You're wondering how I have the time, right? The truth is, I don't. But we make it a priority whenever we get a new resident. Then we introduce them, one day at a time, to the other nurses and aides, until they're comfortable with all of us. It will be okay. You don't need to worry about her."

"That's good to hear. I just…"

"I know. She's your mother. You want her in good hands. I can assure you that she is, Dr. Reid. Just give it some time. You'll see."

Before he could respond, Diana spoke up.

"This is very nice, Spencer. I think we're going to like it here."

Her obvious assumption put Reid into a panic. He couldn't afford to stay and wait for her to accommodate to the idea that he wouldn't be living here with her. If his violation of FBI policy hadn't already put his job in jeopardy, his standing up of the deputy director most certainly would.

Luz understood his dilemma, and intervened.

"Diana, Spencer has to go to work. You remember how hard his job is, right? Why don't you and I get you settled in, and then maybe we can explore around here a little bit. Would that be all right?"

"That's right, Mom. And then, if things work out with the case, I'll be able to see you tomorrow."

Not mentioning that the 'case' was his, concerning his continued employment with the FBI. He held his breath, waiting for her reply. The one thing he was sure of, the thing he'd promised her at their reunion, was that he wouldn't leave her without her assent. He just hadn't counted on the status of that assent changing quite so frequently.

She came toward him, hand raised, and it was all he could do not to flinch. But she simply raised her palm, and caressed his cheek.

"Be careful, Sweetheart."

* * *

By plan, he met Emily at the curb. To his surprise and relief, she seemed to be moving with only a hint of stiffness to her gait. But that didn't stop him from opening the door for her, and helping her get settled in his car.

"Thanks. I'm glad we did it this way. I could tell already that, if you'd come in, she'd have gone into full ambassador mode, and we'd have had trouble escaping."

He chuckled. "So, this is an escape?"

"Trust me, yes. In fact, if you can swing me by an ATM, I'm going to bribe my doctor to clear me for duty when I see him tomorrow."

"Emily, she can't be that bad." _You have no idea what 'bad' looks like._

The unspoken comparison reminded her of where he'd just come from.

"How did it go?"

He wagged his head back and forth. "They're very supportive. I think it's a good situation for both of us, but I'm not sure she'll always see it that way." He explained how she'd already seemed to have forgotten the circumstance.

Emily reached over to rub his arm. "I'm sorry. And here I am, complaining about my mother. I should learn to shut my mouth."

He chanced a smile in her direction. "Not until after you convince the deputy director of my indispensability."

"You _are_ indispensable, Spencer. We had a hell of a time trying to work cases without you."

Intellectually, he knew the words were meant to be supportive. But, emotionally, they seemed to connect directly with something …. something he'd not yet been able to name. Or not yet been able to _bring_ himself to name. All he knew for certain was that what should have felt good, hadn't.

Emily had obviously not noticed his moment of hesitation, as she continued trying to encourage him.

"The deputy director is an okay guy. He approved _me_ , after all."

Turning, and waiting for him to smile in response. Aware, he obliged her.

"And if he could see past the higher ups' dislike of Hotch, and let him pick his successor, then he'll listen to you, and he'll believe you. I'm sure of it. I hope."

"I hope so, too. But….Emily, I just want to make sure you understand. I'm asking for a _choice_. I still don't know what my future holds. I'm only going to this meeting so I'll have a choice."

Her body language articulated how Emily Prentiss felt about the possibility of Reid not returning to the BAU. That she didn't look at him told him that she didn't like what she'd heard. But her words were more tempered.

"I know. And I know that you've been through something unimaginable. I can't expect things…. _you_ ….to be the same. But I want to make sure that you understand that nothing has changed on _my_ end. As long as I'm unit chief...and assuming we're successful this afternoon... you will always have a home with the BAU."

Time for his own body language now. He _did_ turn, and he smiled at her. "Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 11**_

It had been as strange a meeting as either of them could remember. Not that Reid had experienced all that many meetings with the upper echelons. He'd gone into it expecting to be reprimanded at best, reamed out at hopeful, and fired at worst, but none of those things had happened. The Deputy Director had looked appropriately stern and displeased, and Reid had immediately apologized for the fact that the meeting had been necessary at all. But then things had taken an unexpected turn.

"SSA Reid, who, besides you, might have had access to your personnel file?"

Caught off guard, Reid could only respond with, "Shouldn't there be a record of that?"

The DD didn't like that response. "I'm asking you if you have shown the contents of your folder to anyone."

"Honestly, I've never even looked at my folder. I've never had a reason to."

 _Until now. And shouldn't there be a record of whether I've looked at it?_

"Well, then," asked the Deputy Director, "how do you think the information from your folder was leaked to Ms. Adams?"

It was a measure of how off his game he was, that he'd never even thought about it. He'd given Cat false information to try to detect the limits of her knowledge about him, but he hadn't taken it to the next step. He hadn't thought about where that knowledge had come from. But she'd known some things that Wilkins and Lyndsey shouldn't have known, that they shouldn't have been able to pass on to her.

 _They've got a mole. That's what's saving my career. They've got a mole, and they're afraid I'll hold them responsible for what happened to me._

The DD was speaking again. "Is there anyone you might have inadvertently shared information with? Anyone you're particularly close to?"

Prentiss and Cruz spoke at once, leaving no room for Reid to respond.

Emily's "You can't think this was anyone on the team!" Competed with Cruz', "I think we need to look elsewhere, sir."

Internally, Reid could feel himself getting agitated. The only person who met the criterion of knowing everything there was to know about him was JJ. And the only person who could have crept in and out of his file without leaving a footprint was Garcia. Surely the DD didn't mean to implicate either one of the women in this!

When he found an opening he spoke. "I have, and will continue to, place my life in the hands of my fellow team members. I trust all of them, sir."

The DD wasn't about to concede. "I hope that's not what got you into trouble, SSA Reid."

* * *

The trip back to Emily's became a strategy session.

"Do _you_ think there's a mole?" Testing this new piece of information against her opinion.

"I'm sure of it. _Someone_ got information about you to Cat Adams and Wilkins."

Reid tried to shake some sense into his head, but it wouldn't come.

"Why are you so sure? I mean, can't anyone just Google anyone else these days? Wouldn't it have been that easy to find my address? All Cat had to do was to connect with Lyndsey. She could have found out where I lived and followed me. She'd have known I had my mom living with me. She could have followed me to the airport…"

Emily cut him off there. "The last time you flew to Houston, you left from a case. Lyndsey couldn't have followed us to an away case. The only way she could have known you'd gone to Houston was if someone told her."

Which brought both of them to an uncomfortable truth. He'd made the decision emergently, when he'd left from their away location. Until the reports had been filed, it had been only the team who'd known that Reid hadn't returned with them.

Reid turned away from the road when he felt Emily's intense gaze on him, and they locked eyes for a moment. And then she shook it off.

"No. No way. But we'll figure out how it _did_ happen. That is, if you decide to come back."

He turned back to the road. "I'm coming back. I have to."

* * *

After dropping Emily off, he picked up take-out from his favorite Indian place, and headed home.

Home. He'd lived in his apartment for nearly as long as he'd been in the BAU, the longest he'd lived anywhere. It had been his refuge, his retreat, his place of mourning, his place of refueling and refreshing. But, for nearly half of the past year, it had lost its identity, much as he had lost his.

When he'd brought his mother to live with him, he'd lost the sense of order, even if it was an order often buried beneath an array of open books. He'd lost the room to move about, he'd lost his bed, and his closet, and his routine. Most piercingly, he'd lost his solitude. And he'd felt guilty for mourning it.

After that, he'd lost his home, his privacy, his way of life, his freedom and, ultimately, his self-control. Now, entering his apartment alone for the first time in forever, he wondered how much of what he'd lost could still be found.

Reid put the food down on the coffee table that was still displaced by some of his mother's furniture. He went into the bedroom to change out of the suit he'd worn for what could have been his last day with the FBI. When he went to his closet, he saw the space left from where his mother's things had hung, and felt a pang of guilt, that he'd not gone back to see how she'd been settling in this evening. But he had connected with Luz, who'd suggested he stay away, to let Diana learn to rely on the staff at Mountain Laurel.

 _I guess this is how it's going to be, from now on. I'll never feel like I'm in the right place._

Emerging once again, he found something to drink and sat down with his food. Since his release, all of his trips to his apartment had been purpose-driven, and he'd stuck to the task at hand. Now, he sat back, carton in hand, and leaned against the familiar cushions of his sofa, looking out at the familiar skyline. He took a few bites before he realized that, with night falling, he could see his own reflection in the window. Suddenly, that sense of familiarity evaporated.

He'd used a mirror to shave, and even to try to tame his unruly hair, for his meeting with the Deputy Director. But that had also been purpose-driven, and he'd studiously avoided his own eyes. Tonight, they drew him. He pushed aside his food, leaned forward in his seat, and stared at the man in the window.

He'd done it before, many times, as an exercise in self-reflection, both literally and metaphorically. He'd looked at his image, and tried to see himself from without, as someone else might see him. Objectively. Physically.

Especially in his early years, his social isolation had made it easy to focus on his flaws. His baby face, his mismatched clothing, his thick-lensed glasses, all the things he'd been bullied with. He'd learned, then, to avoid his eyes, afraid of the pain and loneliness he would find there. Time, and relationship, had done much to change that. Eventually, he'd begun to try to see himself as a _particular_ someone else might have seen him….Gideon, or Hotch, or Morgan. Elle. JJ. Emily, Garcia. Someone who'd found something of value in him. And it had begun to change who he'd seen in his reflection.

He'd begun to see assurance, a burgeoning self-confidence that had somehow made its way into his features. A straighter stance, a more upright posture….the accoutrements of acceptance. And still, he'd avoided his eyes, fearful of them proclaiming him a fraud.

Tonight, he sought them out. Maybe it was to punish himself for what he thought he would find there. Maybe it was to confront the man who owned them. Maybe it was to condemn him.

Reid stared as deeply as he dared into the eyes staring back at him. In the near dark, they looked like black holes, reflecting no light, too burdened by the gravity of the situation of his life.

The eyes looking back at Reid belonged to a man who had tried to hurt others. A man who _had_ hurt others. A man who, but for the grace of God….and the staying hand of his best friend…might have actually killed another, of his own volition. Reid could barely hold his own gaze. But, if he was to come out the other side of this with any hope of a future, he would have to. He would have to confront what he'd been through, and what it had done to him.

 _You've been imprisoned._ Forcing himself to picture the man before him being handcuffed, and strip-searched, and marched around, just because he could be. Pushed, and commanded, and humiliated, and locked away.

 _You've been beaten_. Forcing himself to picture his image being restrained, and gagged, and kicked, and punched, and slapped, begging for help that would not come. Helpless, and hopeless.

 _You've cost someone his life._ Forcing himself to envision the man before him as he watched someone else pay the price for his hubris. But this image, at least, was not as difficult as the image that had presented itself to his eyes on that fateful day, as he'd watched Luis' life taken from him, in the split of a second.

 _You've become just like them._ Maybe he'd _always_ been just like them. Maybe that was the _real_ reason he'd avoided looking into his own eyes all these years. Maybe he'd always known what he would see there. Maybe Cat Adams had seen it too, that very first time they'd met.

He tried to force himself to look through the eyes of his reflected image, and into the distorted depths within. But, this time, something blocked his gaze. Something wouldn't let him search those depths. Something was wrong with his vision. Although his eyes remained fixed on the reflection in the window, it was a different image that surfaced in his mind. Just a few days ago, he'd heard her voice in his head, when he'd broken down in Rossi's garden. Now he saw her face, as it had looked when she'd told him, " _I would have, yes. If someone had threatened my life like that, I would have done exactly what you did. That doesn't make you like them_."

 _She_ would have done it. JJ, his best friend, whose face he'd looked at a million times, whose eyes he'd drowned in more often than he would ever admit. _She_ would have done exactly as he had. If she was being truthful with him, what did that mean about her? In his mind's eye, he looked into hers, searching deeply. Would he find her changed? Would he see her external beauty housing a rotten core?

He didn't. He couldn't. It wasn't there. All he'd ever been able to see, all he could still see, was love, and loyalty, and friendship. Her external beauty was a constant, but his memory could never conjure it without it being enhanced by the beauty inside. Even when he looked at her in the flesh, he never really saw JJ's face anymore. He saw JJ.

And then it came to him. Finally, it came to him. With most of the others, it had simply been a phase, an exercise, looking at himself as they looked at him. But with JJ, it was different. It had always been different. She'd gotten closer. He'd let her in. And she'd accepted what she'd seen inside him, and loved him, either because of it or in spite of it. The depth of their friendship was such that _her_ gaze had become _his_. He could no longer look into himself through his own lens alone. His vision had become shaped, in part, by hers. Thus, as she could not see past the good in him, neither could he.

 _Maybe we're both just blind._

He would find out, soon enough. His immediate future was determined now. He _would_ return to the FBI, and the BAU. Ironically, as he was in the best physical shape of all of them save Garcia, he would be the first to return. He would start in on finding out who had hurt his friends, and who had made a train wreck of his life. At the moment, it looked as though both roads might lead in the same direction. To Scratch.

He would find Peter Lewis. And he would bring him to justice. Whether he was the man Cat Adams believed him to be, or the man JJ believed him to be, would be found out. Because, if he was as Cat said, he would do more than demand justice.

He would impose it.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 12**_

For the first time in over four months, Reid swiped himself into the FBI building at Quantico and rode the elevator alone to the sixth floor. It felt like some sort of bizarre rite of passage, a commencement into the rest of his life, familiar and yet not, because, while his surroundings hadn't changed, the man most certainly had.

He smiled to see a big yellow ribbon tied around the chair at his desk, and the entire surface of said desk hidden under a massive array of sweets and treats, all obviously courtesy of Penelope Garcia. Reid laid his messenger bag on the only uncovered surface, the seat of his chair, and went to thank his favorite tech analyst. He hadn't the heart to tell her he'd lost his taste for sugar, so he would have to convince her that moving it all to the coffee bay was simply a means of sharing the celebration. Even if nothing about his life felt celebratory.

He knocked, and pushed the open door further in.

"Anybody home?"

The blonde head whipped around, and shouted at him. "Oh, you're here! My sweet genius is back! One more thing is right in my world!"

She crossed the room and drew him into a hug, which he gladly returned.

"Thank you. You really shouldn't have …."

"Oh, yes, I should have. I'm just sorry it's only me here, to celebrate with you. But, just you wait. When the others get back, we'll have a party the likes of which the BAU has never seen!"

Reid wasn't sure the BAU had seen all that many parties for comparison, but he appreciated the sentiment. He spent a few more minutes listening as Garcia caught him up on the status of their godsons, and how well she'd represented both of them at the end-of-year assembly at Henry's school, and then excused himself to get to work. But he'd only gotten as far as the mezzanine stairs when he was brought up short. Tara Lewis and Luke Alvez were both at their desks, days ahead of schedule. He was about to call out to them when he heard his own name called, and turned to look behind him. Both David Rossi and Stephen Walker were emerging from Rossi's office.

"What are you all doing here?"

"Working," said Rossi. "What does it look like?"

"But I thought I was the only one cleared to be back. I didn't expect to see anyone else here for a few days."

"Ah, I see. Just as I thought. Spend a little time away, and you forget who you work with." Rossi smiled. "Listen, Kid, we're all well enough to sit at a desk and think. We were going to be thinking anyway, right? Besides, we know a 'doctor' who might be able to give us a second opinion about our readiness to work."

A wry smile came to Reid's lips at Rossi's alluding to his own past attempt to circumvent doctor's orders.

"Okay, I get it. But….not Emily, right? And not JJ?" Still worried about his two injured female friends.

"No, we thought it would be pushing it to let them back too soon. They did both have surgery, after all. But don't be surprised to see them in another day or two. It will good to have an intact team again." As if thinking better of it, he added, "Well, almost."

Stephen Walker spoke up then. "I'm afraid I'm the fly in this particular ointment. I've just told Dave that I'm returning to my old unit, orders from above."

"The Director?" Reid was surprised at the idea of the Bureau's leader being so hands on.

"My wife. She was happy with me being with the BAU at first, because we spend so much time in DC. With the BAP, she didn't like the travel, which was constant. But, to quote her, 'at least with the BAP you're chasing the bad guys. With the BAU, it seems like the bad guys are always chasing you.' And she wants me in one piece. You know, mortgage, college tuitions, weddings."

Rossi patted him on the shoulder. "I must have forgotten about that part of marriage, or else I wouldn't be seeing my ex again."

Reid extended a hand to his departing colleague. "I'm sorry we never really got to work together. But thank you for everything you did to help me."

Stephen shook Reid's hand. "I didn't really get to do all that much. But I'm glad it turned out well for you. You have a remarkable set of colleagues here in the BAU. And some very good friends. I'm glad you'll all be back working together."

"So am I," agreed Reid, before he had a chance to think otherwise. It seemed his subconscious had made a decision for him.

The trio went down to the bullpen and broke the news to the others, who wished Walker a regretful farewell and made arrangments to keep in touch.

Luke gestured in the direction of Reid's bountiful desk top. "Any of that up for grabs?"

"All of it."

"Great! Roxy was hungry this morning. She didn't leave enough food for me."

Tara looked at him sideways. "You feed Roxy people food?"

"Hey, she deserves it. Roxy's probably saved more lives than I have. She always eats first."

The others conceded his point as Luke found a packet of cupcakes to serve as breakfast. In time, Rossi returned to his office, and Walker went to pack his desk, while the three remaining profilers moved about 10,000 calories from Reid's desk to the coffee bay. Reid took advantage of the proximity to pour himself a mug of coffee. Black.

He returned to his desk and went to log in, only to find that his password had expired two months prior, and the system wouldn't let him in. He was about to call IT when Garcia came bustling down the stairs and over to his desk. Reid took advantage of her unexpected visit.

"Hey, can you help me? I can't log in."

Ironically, the BAU's IT whiz didn't technically work for the IT department. But she knew how to hack it. She had him up and running in a matter of seconds.

"Thanks. You must be psychic. Unless you came to see me for another reason?"

"Both. You know, psychic _and_ I'm here for another reason. I brought you something."

"Garcia, you've already done way too much for me. You don't need to bring me another present."

"Ah, but this one, you asked for. Here." She handed him a piece of paper.

It looked like a copy of a cut-out newspaper article. A small one, obviously at the bottom of page…15. Reid read it in seconds.

"This is from today?"

"Yep. Our girl pulled in some chits from her liaison days. Funny how it was all the _guys_ who seemed to remember her. Anyway, she got this one to agree to run the story, but he couldn't promise it would make the front page."

"It's on page _fifteen_."

"I know. But at least they printed it, right? It's not technically a retraction, because the original articles weren't actually wrong. It's more of an update."

"On page fifteen." Then something she'd said finished processing, and he had to ask. "There was more than one article? I'll bet I made the front page _then_."

Garcia began to wish she'd not brought it up. She'd thought she was bringing him good news.

"There were only two, one for the arrest, and one for the hearing. The second one was on page five." Not mentioning where the first one had been. She studied her friend. "You haven't looked at them, have you?"

"You think I don't know how to Google myself?"

"No, I think I know how to profile you. You _do_ know how to Google yourself, but you've chosen not to."

Guilty. "What good would it do?"

She was moved to hug him. "None. But this, my friend," tapping the paper in his hand, "is still good news. I got the hard copy for you specifically…but hardly anyone reads the physical paper anymore. It doesn't matter what page it's on, it's just a series of headlines to click on. They'll see the little headline, and they'll either read it, or they'll think, 'See, the FBI are the good guys after all.' It's all good, Boy Wonder."

The last thing he wanted to be was ungrateful. And it really didn't matter, did it? Word would spread through the FBI pipeline just as it probably had when he was arrested for a drug-fueled murder. Although he was willing to bet that the original story had ridden a wave of scandal, while his innocence and reinstatement would seep through in a slow trickle.

It would be much the same in his personal life. There had been a few brows lifted by those who recognized him at the Indian restaurant last night, and he was pretty sure there had been some doubletakes at his apartment building. He could only imagine the reception he would get with the chess kids at the park. He feared that most of their parents would forbid their children to have contact with him, regardless of his exoneration, especially if it was announced on _page fifteen_.

"I'm sorry, I do appreciate it. And I'm grateful to JJ for trying. I just….. I think it's hard to lose a bad reputation, once you've acquired it. Even if somebody manages to find the story."

Garcia reached into a pocket of her dress. "Well, at least one person has managed to find it. This message came in for you." She handed him another piece of paper.

"Why didn't they just leave it on my voice mail?"

"I think it's full, my love. You were gone a long time."

She had to help him get into _that_ as well. When he did, he played through a series of messages, some routine, one from Morgan, just saying 'hello', three from Cassie, and a host from a frantic JJ, all delivered during the few days he'd been in Mexico. He remembered that she'd filled up the messages on his phone as well, all with concern about where he was, and what he was doing, and did he need any help, and please call her back, she was worried about him. He was glad not to have put it on speakerphone when he listed to the final message, one she'd left well after he'd been sent to Milburn.

" _Hi. I know you're not here. I'm sitting next to your empty desk. I just…I needed to hear your voice. God, what a nightmare, Spence! I'm trying to stay positive. Maybe you'll be able to listen to this one day, sitting at your desk, drinking your coffee. Please God, let it happen."_ A sniffle, then _, " Okay. I love you_."

Listening to her, he felt guilt rising once again. His ordeal hadn't just happened to him. It had happened to everyone who cared about him. He couldn't know if Cat Adams would have been able to manipulate him so easily if he hadn't isolated himself from his friends in the first place. But the truth was that he'd made it easier. And it had cost all of them.

Deliberately, he deleted each of the messages, save the last one, a microstep in the process of letting go of that disastrous time in his life.

"Okay, all clear now."

"Great. But you might want to call this one back." Indicating the paper message she'd given him. "It's from a lawyer."

"Why would a lawyer be calling me?"

"I don't know, but she said…it's a 'she'…. that she'd read the article, and she wanted to talk to you."

Reid rolled his eyes. "She probably wants to help me sue the FBI. But that's not going to happen. It was all my fault." He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash. "If she calls back, tell her I'm not interested."

"If she calls back, they'll send her right to your phone. If you don't want to speak with her, don't answer."

* * *

The attorney did call back, four times. It might have become five, or even six, had he not become distracted by his work, and forgotten to check the caller ID before picking up the receiver.

"Dr. Reid here."

"Uh….I was looking for _Agent_ Reid."

His eyes caught the number on the screen, and he cringed. _Ugh._ But he would be polite, as ever.

"This is Agent Reid."

"Agent Reid, you're a hard man to reach!"

 _Not hard enough._

"Sorry. Should I have been expecting your call?"

"Well, I left you a few messages. Did you get them….no, nevermind, I'll get right to the point. I'm sure you're busy, as am I."

"I can help you out with that. I'm not interested in suing the FBI."

"You're not…..oh, no. That's not why I'm calling. Although, I guess I could help you, if you ever changed your mind."

"I won't. So, what is it that you need to speak with me about?"

Scanning his brain for pending cases, or appeals, anything to do with the criminals they'd caught. But his memory wasn't quite operating at full capacity yet, and nothing came to mind.

"Have you ever heard of the Innocence Project?"

That was unexpected. But he had heard of it. "You mean, where you use DNA evidence to overturn wrongful convictions?"

"Exactly."

"Yes, obviously, I have. But that's not what we do in the BAU."

"Yes, yes, I know. But what if I told you we're trying to expand beyond DNA-disproven convictions?"

He had no idea where she was going with this, but he couldn't help it. He was intrigued.

"How?"

"That's what I want to talk with you about. I think there's a way you might be able to help us. We've been trying to figure out our next steps, and then, wham! I saw the article this morning, about your having been framed for murder, and it all came together! I felt like I'd been handed a gift from the Almighty!"

Reid physically shook his head, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. But it wasn't happening.

"Look, Miss….I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"MC Ryan. I'm the assistant director of the DC office of the Project."

"All right, Attorney Ryan. I'm sorry, but I don't see how I can help you. My work is …"

"Please don't say 'no'! Not yet, anyway. Not until you've heard me out. Please. There are people suffering in prison who don't belong there. And I think you can help me to help them. Can I just…can we just meet for coffee or something, and I can explain everything?"

He'd been prepared to be steadfast in his refusal. But the notion of wrongful imprisonment had become too personal. She had him, and she apparently knew it. Because, without waiting for him to reply, she negotiated a date and time.

By the time Reid hung up the phone, he had agreed to meet with her over coffee tomorrow afternoon, at one, just before his next appointment with Anna Hughes.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 13**_

The second day back did nothing to make Reid feel like he could recreate a routine. His commute had been familiar, and his desk had reacquired an acceptable amount of organized clutter, but the desk next to his was still empty, and the unit chief's office remained dark. For the second day in a row, his two closest friends within the BAU were missing.

Those who had already returned had been reminded that the FBI was still open for business, and there were still cases to be triaged and reviewed, even if the team wasn't yet ready for the field. Peter Lewis, while of interest as an escaped former serial killer, couldn't be their primary work. They could consult to those tracking the remaining escapees, as potential experts in serial killer behavior. But chasing down an inactive killer was not a task for the BAU. There were too many active killers to pursue.

Mateo Cruz had argued that Scratch was suspected of having _attempted_ to kill six FBI agents. His failure to accomplish that end should have no bearing on his being declared 'active'. But there was not yet any solid evidence of Scratch's involvement, and Cruz had lost the argument in substance. But, in spirit, he'd won the right for the BAU to have access to all information related to the investigation, and even to reserve a portion of their time for case review and analysis.

Among the team, it had been decided that Reid would have the freshest eyes, and so he took on the bulk of the work related to Scratch. Had that not already been agreed upon, he might have insisted. Peter Lewis had already taken one dear friend from him, and had just tried to take several more. Spencer Reid was tired of losing people to Peter Lewis.

Reid dug into the disturbingly thin file on his desk, which contained all of the information compiled on Scratch since the time of the great prison escape. There was, presumably, more information to be found about the vanished serial killers in digital form. But, considering the computer genius of Lewis, all information related to him had been kept in print form, where he could neither see nor alter it.

As best Reid could tell, there had been a potential sighting of Scratch in South America, but that seemed to be the only lead, and it was far from a solid one.

 _So, did he go there directly, and return, just now? Or did he hang out for a while, before heading south? If so, what drove him away? And what drew him back? Or was the sighting not real? Maybe he never left at all._

Or maybe he _wasn't_ behind the attack on the BAU. Peter Lewis certainly wasn't the only person with a grudge against the team. There were still a few remaining serial killers on the loose. Maybe it was one of them.

 _Except that we didn't have direct contact with the others. We consulted, but it was the local police who actually took them down. They could still resent our involvement, but not to this extent. This was personal._

It _had_ been personal, to whomever had orchestrated it, just as it was still personal to Reid. Which thought reminded him that he hadn't yet checked in with either of his missing friends today. So he picked up his phone and tapped Emily's number.

"Hey, Handsome."

He smiled. "You sound like Emily Prentiss."

"I feel like Emily Prentiss again, finally. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Yep. Still desk duty, for all of us. And, apparently the Ambassador thinks I'm too fragile to drive, so…"

"I can pick you up."

'Oh, no. No, it seems that I am to travel in style, for the immediate future. My mother is having her driver bring me."

"Tell her I can do it."

"No, thank you, but no. It's not worth the aggravation. Besides, I have to let her think she's doing something, or she really _will_ do something, and there's no telling what else she would come up with."

He chuckled. "She just wants you to know how much she cares about you."

"She does. And I'm a terrible, ungrateful daughter. But I really need to get back to work. Have you been looking through Scratch's file?"

"Such as it is. And it's left me with more questions than answers. I'll take a look at the digital records next. All of the killers got out at the same time. Scratch must have had company for at least a little while. Maybe it's worth looking at the others' information as well."

Emily agreed. "There _are_ still a few out there."

Reid wasn't sure that was pertinent. "I get the sense that he's on his own now, so it may not matter about the others still being free. We might get our clue from someone who's already been recaptured. It only matters who he was with at the beginning."

Emily smiled unseen at the blessed familiarity of her old friend doing what he did best...thinking outside the box.

"And _that's_ why I'm glad you're back. Well, that, and….you know."

He did. And he felt the same way.

"I'm glad to be back. And I'll be especially glad when the team is whole again."

"Amen to that."

His next call almost went to voice mail. He was about to give up, when a breathless JJ answered.

"Spence?"

"Are you all right?" Already out of his seat, prepared to leave and go to her aid.

"I'm fine. Sorry. I just…. " He heard her heave a huge sigh, as a means of catching her breath. "I was just putting Henry's Boy Scout stuff in the basement, and I didn't have my phone with me. I ran up the stairs."

"JJ, you should always have your phone with you! What if you'd felt light headed, or fallen, or…"

"Sorry, Spence, I know you're right. I'm just not used to having to worry about those things in my own house. Besides, I'm practically healed. I'll be back to work tomorrow."

"Practically?" As much as he missed her, he didn't want her taking chances.

"As much as I need to be, to sit at a desk. Besides, I need to get out of here. I love my mother, but she's….she's _mothering_ me."

He was glad she couldn't see the smile on his face. Having been mothered a time or two by the person on the phone, he couldn't help but think, _Tit for tat_. Aloud, he made a joke of it.

"Did you say she was smothering you?"

"Ha. No, you know what I mean." Immediately realizing her faux pas. Of all the people she knew, Spencer Reid was the one least acquainted with being mothered. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I just got off the phone with Emily. She'll be back tomorrow, too." Which reminded him. "Why don't I swing by and pick you up in the morning?"

She knew what he was doing. "I'm cleared to drive, Spence."

"I know. But it's your first day back, and you'll be tired. And besides, I was going to stop by and see Mom tomorrow after work. Your place is on my way."

"It's not on your way in the morning."

"Humor me. Please?"

Silence told him she was thinking it over. Then her words told him something else.

"Okay, deal. It will give you a chance to tell me about this female lawyer you're meeting with this afternoon."

"How did you know….oh, never mind."

"Did you really think things had changed that much?"

He chuckled. "I guess I'd be sad if they had. All right, I'll fill you in tomorrow."

"And I get to drive myself the day after."

"All right."

"Unless there's more you need to tell me about."

"See you tomorrow, JJ."

* * *

Cool Beans was located in the Foggy Bottom area of Washington DC, just a short jaunt southeast from Anna Hughes' office near Georgetown. Dropping his car at his apartment, Reid took the Metro into the city, where he could enjoy a good stroll between appointments.

He arrived to the café a few minutes early, and was surprised to see a hand waving at him from a table against the back wall. The owner's face was partially hidden behind the open cover of her laptop, until she stood, and he could make out her features. The woman, presumably MC Ryan, stood at roughly JJ's height, but her hair was a very dark blonde verging on brown, stylishly messy as it neared her shoulders. Closer inspection revealed highlights at the tips of her hair, and strikingly green eyes.

"Are you…"

"MC Ryan, yes. I know you're Spencer Reid, I've seen your picture." She put out a hand in greeting, and he shook it. "Please, sit. I know you're probably busy, so I took a chance and ordered you a black coffee. You can fix it the way you like it over there."

He smiled. "Black is fine."

"Oh, great. Well, can we get started then?"

"I'm here to listen." Curious, and bemused, at her enthusiasm, and directness. _And she doesn't beat around the bush. I like that._

"I hope you're here for more than that. But let me tell you about it first. So, you said you've heard of the Innocence Project. What do you know about it?"

"I know that it was formed after the advent of using DNA as identifying evidence in criminal investigations. Lawyers reopen old cases where DNA might have been recovered, but not tested, as a means of helping people wrongly convicted."

"Exactly. And….oh, God, I can't believe I forgot. Here, I reached out to you because of what you went through, and I forgot to even mention it. What an idiot. Please forgive me. And please forgive the judicial system. I'm so sorry for what you had to endure."

Her words, meant to be consoling, pierced him, unexpectedly. Here was a complete stranger, privy to one of the most shameful and shame-filled episodes of his life, one with which he himself had yet to come to terms. _Recognizing him_ because of it. And blithely dismissing it as a simple act of injustice. He could feel the red rising up his neck, and into his cheeks.

To her credit, MC Ryan seemed to realize his reaction, and was apologetic once again.

"I'm sorry. I can see it's a sensitive subject." Then, hearing her own words, she rolled her eyes in disgust. "How stupid I sound. Of course it's not just a sensitive subject. It's your life, and it was disrupted, and now you're being subjected to this complete stranger passing judgment on it. I'm sorry. I should just go and leave you in peace. But I can't. This is too important. I promise you I'm not usually like this. I usually make sense and I'm usually sensitive, and I am not in the habit of insulting people I've just met, especially when I want them to help me."

His natural chivalry responded to her obviously genuine distress, and he found his voice.

"It's all right. I just….. I haven't found a way to talk about it yet. To be honest, I haven't really even found a way to _think_ about it yet."

MC took that in, and sat and looked at Reid for a long time, obviously conducting some sort of internal dialogue. Finally, she spoke her thoughts aloud.

"It's too soon. I'm sorry, I should have known better. I shouldn't have called you so soon." She closed her laptop and began to gather her things. "I hope you can forgive me. Maybe…. do you think I can call you again in a few months?"

Reid could only hope that she knew what she was talking about, and that a few months' time would find him in a different place emotionally. But she'd aroused his curiosity, and he wasn't about to let her go without having it sated.

"Since we're both here, why don't you tell me how you think I can help you. If it doesn't work out, at least you won't have wasted any more time on me."

MC was surprised to hear the compassion in his voice. She'd just totally bungled the conversation, had obviously upset him, and yet here he was, forgiving her mistake, and willing to hear her out.

 _This whole meeting has been full of surprises._

She'd researched him, of course. But the only photos she'd been able to find were from an article describing the twenty-three year old FBI protégé, a Georgetown faculty photo…and his mug shot. They had been enough to help her recognize him as he walked into the shop, but…

 _They definitely didn't do him justice. He cleans up nicely! But he doesn't have that tough-guy thing that most law enforcement types do. He's ….interesting._

Remembering that she'd just been invited specifically to lay out her proposal, she did just that.

"Well, you were partly right about us having old evidence DNA-analyzed. That's how we started. But we've also taken on cases where DNA had already been analyzed, but there was no match in the system. Based on the idea that offenders usually re-offend, we look at those cases again, to see if the perpetrator has since been entered into the system."

He nodded. "You're right, there are certain unsub types that are more likely to reoffend."

"Unsub?"

"Sorry….'unknown subject'. Except it's become our default for 'bad guy', so even when we know who it is, we still tend to use the term."

She nodded. "Oh. Okay. Well, so, we've been able to reopen a lot of cases and, so far, we've got over 350 convictions reversed."

"That's pretty impressive."

"It's great, but we think it's just a drop in the bucket."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because not every case has DNA evidence. That means there could be a host of people wrongly convicted and imprisoned, with no way to prove their innocence."

"And you think I can help you with that?" Sounding not at all certain. "I mean….I'm kind of the bad guy, right? As part of law enforcement, I helped _put_ some of those people in prison."

Which was another thing he would have to deal with in therapy. Reid made a mental note.

MC pushed her laptop aside and leaned forward over the table.

"For your information, my father was a cop. I have great respect for law enforcement….in general, anyway. But I know there are some who give it a bad name. Even my dad said that. He's the one who encouraged me to go to law school, and he was excited about my getting involved with the Project."

Reid was in the odd position of just having had himself defended to himself, by someone he'd just met. He had no response, so he just gestured for her to continue.

"Okay, well, we're starting to look for other means to overturn convictions. Some of it we think we'll be able to do just based on a legal technicality. Those cases aren't actually too hard to find, although they can be hard to win. But we have a very long list of people who insist that they're innocent, or their loved one is innocent, and neither DNA nor the technicality approach apply. So we feel like we need to start thinking about it in a new way. Which is where you come in."

Increasingly intrigued, Reid also leaned in, to listen.

"Go ahead."

"We need someone to look at cases and kind of 'reverse profile' them, I guess you could say."

"Reverse profile?"

"Yes. We need to have a way to triage cases, and we thought this might give us a way to find the ones where it's the most likely that the wrong person has been convicted."

"It's not an exact science, Miss…"

"Ms. And it's 'Ryan', but you can call me MC."

In spite of himself, Reid smirked. "Interesting first name."

She laughed. "Mary Clare. It sounded too nun-like, so I shortened it."

"Okay, well, Mary, it's not…."

"Clare."

"What?"

"If you _have_ to use a name, use Clare."

"All right, Clare. As I was saying, profiling isn't an exact science. We study behavior and make predictions based on that, but behaviors can always change. We can't be certain, unless the other evidence corroborates it, or unless we catch them in the act."

"But it's _something_. It's better than nothing, right? I'm not saying we'll win the battle based on the profile, just that you'll help us pick which cases to work on. That's all. You wouldn't have to do anything else, just review cases and tell us what you think. We'll take over from there."

He looked unconvinced, but just undecided enough that she saw an opportunity to pull out her ace.

"What if I showed you two case files, one where we got the conviction overturned on DNA, and one where the DNA upheld the original conviction. I won't tell you which is which, and you see if you can tell, just by profiling. If you get it right, will that convince you?"

When she saw the light of interest in his eyes, she knew she had him. And he could see that she knew.

"All right, I'll give it a try. But I can't make any promises. And I already have a full time job."

"I know. And I don't mean to be pushy. But….it's just that I've been able to help a few people regain their freedom. There's no better feeling in the world, and that's just for _me_. But, do you know that the average time spent behind bars for these innocent people is thirteen years? _Thirteen years_. Can you even imagine it?"

Reid had spent a mere three months wrongfully imprisoned. Three of the longest months of his life, and he hadn't believed he would survive it. He still wasn't sure if he _had_ survived it. Only time would answer that question.

Without a word, he opened his hand, and she placed the two files into it.

"When do you think we should meet again? You'll need time to read through the cases."

He'd have the cases read tonight, of course. But he also had work to do on Scratch, and he wouldn't have time to be back in the city before his next appointment with Anna anyway.

"How about a week from now? Same time, same place?"

She grinned at him. "Deal."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 14**_

Anna Hughes greeted Reid with a smile.

"You look a little more energized than you did last week."

"Do I? I guess I finally managed to sleep, for a couple of nights in a row."

"No nightmares?" Taking her seat, as she waved him into his.

"I didn't say that."

She nodded. It would have been more remarkable for him _not_ to have had them.

Consulting her prep notes, she asked, "Did you remember your homework?"

"I remembered it. It was to answer the questions: Do bad things happen to good people? Or does what happens to us define the type of person we are?"

"And?"

"I _remembered_ it. But I don't know that I made much progress with it. I mean, it's obvious what you want me to conclude, isn't it? That, yes, bad things do happen to good people, and no, we shouldn't be defined by what happens to us."

She'd caught the 'shouldn't', but that would have to wait. There was a more pressing issue in what he'd just said, one that she would have to address before they could move forward with anything.

"Spencer, there is no expected answer. No 'right' answer. So, no, there wasn't anything I wanted you to conclude. This isn't about that."

He wore his disbelief on his face.

"It's not? We're not here so you can get me to a point where I'll see things the 'right' way?"

Anna Hughes was too experienced, and too good at what she did, to parry with a patient. So she simply reflected his attitude back to him.

"I sense some antagonism, Spencer. Are you not here willingly? Would you prefer if we didn't pursue this?"

In fact, he'd been _ordered_ to enter therapy. So, technically, it hadn't been his idea. But he _had_ personally chosen to do his therapy with the woman who'd helped him get past his guilt and grief about the loss of Maeve. _That_ time hadn't been his idea, either. It had been 'strongly recommended' that he get some help, and Hotch had personally selected the helper. Reid had wondered, afterward, if Hotch had spoken as the voice of experience. Maybe he'd seen Anna Hughes in the time after he'd lost Haley.

Regardless of how it had come about, Reid was aware of the necessity of dealing with his trauma. He just hadn't quite reached the point of being able to label any part of it, not even by calling it a trauma. It was still too close, and too big, for him to take in the whole of it. Too imposing to separate himself from it. There was no place where it merely touched him. It _consumed_ him in _every_ place, in every part of his being. The human figure of Spencer Reid still walked the earth, and went about his daily business. But everything that _made_ him Spencer was still subsumed in the experience of prison.

"I don't think I'm ready."

"Not ready? For therapy?"

He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Maybe. I don't know. I ….. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be back on the team right now."

Anna studied him. He'd come to her before, wounded, stunned, but articulate. He'd understood the grief, even when he hadn't been able to find a way beyond it. She sensed that this situation was different. This time, he didn't have the vocabulary. He didn't know how to even begin, how to start to break down all that had happened to him. He'd told her the facts of it last week. But he hadn't even touched on the experience of it.

"Spencer, if you need more time off, I can give you a letter. To be honest, I'm surprised you _are_ back working already. You've barely had any time to recover."

"My friends are in danger. I _have_ to work."

That didn't sit well with Anna. "You _have_ to work. And yet, you just told me you thought you shouldn't be back on the team."

Reid rubbed at his eyes. From her prior notes, the psychologist recognized it as his means of giving himself time to gather his thoughts. And his gesture of frustration.

"I know it doesn't make any sense. That….that's what my mind is like right now. Just a jumble of thoughts, and occasionally one rises to the surface. I guess what I mean is that I'm not sure I'm ready for a case. But I'm damn sure I'm ready to be able to stop worrying about the people I care about being the targets of a madman."

Anna twiddled her pen for a few seconds, as the considered what he'd said.

"All right. So, you're not ready, for either your usual casework, nor for therapy. So, how do we get you ready? Assuming that's your goal, of course."

He was quick to respond to that one, surprising even himself.

"It is! I can't stay like this. I can't stay….."

When he seemed to be struggling for the word, she offered one. "In limbo?"

Not really, but he would take it. So he nodded. But internally, he corrected her.

 _Not limbo. Purgatory._

* * *

In the end, they'd decided to continue. Reid might not have been emotionally ready for therapy, but he was still too grounded in logic not to realize the necessity of trying. So he'd agreed to continue with twice weekly sessions. And he'd agreed to more homework.

Anna had assigned him to journal. His dreams, his nightmares, his activities, his insights, should they begin to come. If Reid couldn't find the words to describe his feelings, perhaps Anna could, between the lines of his journal.

It was a tool that was pretty basic, and widely used among therapists. Reid had even journaled while in prison. When he'd shared that fact with Anna, she'd pounced upon it.

"Would you mind letting me read it? If you journaled as things were happening, maybe we'll both find something we can work with there."

Because, as things were happening, they were absorbed in small doses. _Describable_ doses, unlike the mammoth, unspeakable entirety of the experience, taken all at once.

But Reid didn't know what had become of his journal. Despite it having been assigned by the prison psychologist, it had been confiscated as contraband. As he took the Metro back to his apartment, he tried to call up the contents of his journal eidetically, but the only thing that would come was the image of Henry's picture. Reid had recreated it while it was fresh in his mind, adding his best friend into the scene as well, so he could hold on to the memory of that day as it had occurred. Just yesterday, when he'd first sat at his desk, he'd found Henry's picture, placed there to welcome him home.

He'd started the prison journal just after the death of his friend, Luis Delgado. Like so many of the deaths he'd witnessed as a member of the BAU, Luis' death had been incidental. There hadn't been a grudge against him, there hadn't been a familial component. Luis had been killed to send a message to Reid. Luis had been viewed by his killers as a means to an end, an object, and not a person. Reid had seen it too many times. But he'd never seen it happen to a friend. Even Maeve's death had not been so impersonal.

The thought of Luis brought him back to his meeting with MC Ryan. Luis had claimed innocence, just as Reid had. Of course, many blatantly guilty people did so. But Reid was curious about Luis, and still felt guilty about his inadvertent part in the young man's death. He wondered if MC could help him look into it. If nothing else, exoneration after the fact might bring some small measure of comfort to the young man's family…if he even had one.

As soon as he arrived home, Reid went to his closet, looking for the bag given to him as he'd left prison. JJ had brought his phone and wallet to Milburn with her, when she'd come to get him released. Since then, there hadn't been anything else he'd needed from the bag. He hadn't even looked inside. Had actually thought about just tossing it, and all it reminded him of. But now he opened it, hoping that, somehow, he would find the journal inside.

The smell of it hit him at once, that scent of too many male bodies crowded together, and fear, and anger, and harsh soap, and even harsher detergent. The coarseness of the clothing, and the sheets. The barely-there, mildewed towels. And, once again, the scent of that detergent….the scent…..and it brought him back, immediately, into the laundry room. His heart pounded, and he broke out into a sweat, and he fell to the floor, and all he could see was the confused look on Luis' face, and the grim smile of blood just beneath his chin.

He might have passed out, or maybe he'd just fallen asleep in the exhaustion following his adrenalin rush. All Reid knew was that he was lying on the floor of his bedroom, drenched. It came back to him, when he saw the bag next to him, the odor now dissipated. Gathering whatever remained of his strength, he reached into the bag. Maybe if he just touched the contents, and didn't look at them….

The journal wasn't there. Maybe it had been thrown away by the guard who'd confiscated it. Or maybe it had been put into some bin of collected contraband materials. Maybe it was still retrievable. He could ask. Or maybe he could ask JJ to ask. He didn't trust himself to be on the phone with the prison. Not after what had just happened.

He was completely shaken. He'd had nightmares before, but not flashbacks. Not something he couldn't control in the middle of his waking hours. Not since that time after Hankel. Not since he'd been driven to seek solace in a vial of opiates. The memory of it reminded him, and he made a mental note. He would have to get to a meeting, soon. He no longer craved, not even now. But he knew enough not to wait for that to happen.

Slowly, he rose from the floor, and picked up the bag. Holding it at arms' length, he brought it to the kitchen, found a plastic garbage bag, and dropped it inside. He knew he could….and maybe _should_ ….just throw it away. But its clear association with the prison, and the fact of what it had just done to him, had turned it into an icon of sorts. A symbol, a marker. If the day should come when he could handle the bag, maybe it would mean that he could handle his life.

 _I have to be able to face it. I can't be in the middle of a case, and become nonfunctional. I can't put my friends at risk like that. I can't put victims at risk. And I can't live like this. I can't lose my life to prison…unless I already have._

 _Please, God, if You're even out there. Please. Help me._


	15. Chapter 15

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 15**_

Reid waited at the curb for JJ. Normally he might have been tempted to go to the door, and catch a glimpse of his godsons, but he didn't think he was quite fit company for them at the moment. So he was caught off guard when Sandy followed JJ to the car, leading a squirmy Michael by the hand.

The gravitational pull was too strong. Reid got out of his car and squatted to be closer to the littlest blonde of the bunch.

"Hey, Michael. How are you?"

"You play wif me?" Large, sad eyes pleading.

JJ explained. "Henry had a sleepover with Toby last night. Mikey misses him."

"Ah. I wish I could, little man, but your mom and I have to go to work."

"No!"

JJ and her mother spoke at once. "Michael….that's not nice."

Reid regretted disappointing his godson, but there was nothing to be done about it. He gave the toddler a quick hug, and tousled his hair, before unnecessarily explaining the situation to the two women.

"It's just that he's in Erikson's developmental stage of autonomy versus shame and doubt. He's pretty much constitutionally unable to agree with anything."

"Tell me about it," said JJ, as she kissed Michael goodbye and got into the car.

Sandy leaned into the open window beside her daughter. "Spencer, I wanted to ask about your mother. Is she adjusting well at Mountain Laurel?"

Reid couldn't help but be touched at Sandy's concern. For more than two decades, Diana and her lot had mattered only to him, and he alone had borne the burden of her care. It was still his to bear, but it felt lighter, somehow, with others sharing the knowledge of it.

"Surprisingly well, actually. Thanks for asking. Her aide, Luz, stayed on for an extra day, and helped her make the transition to the new staff. I'm planning to stop by tonight to see her."

Sandy smiled approvingly. "Good. Do you think she'd mind if I stopped in to visit now and then? In spite of her illness, we managed to bond a bit over our wayward children."

"Mom!" JJ's protest was good-natured.

Reid couldn't help but smile, both at the interaction of mother and daughter, and at the idea that, after all this time, his mother might have made a new friend.

"Sure, I think she would enjoy it. Thank you for offering."

"No thanks necessary, it's my pleasure." Sandy straightened herself and tapped the roof of the car. "All right, you two, off you go. Wouldn't want my girl late for work on her first day back. Please take good care of her Spencer."

He grinned. "Always do. Thanks, Sandy."

As they pulled away, JJ repeated his words. "You 'always do' take care of me? Since when do I need taking care of?"

Reid was very aware of the importance his best friend placed on her independence. "Sorry. Just trying to be friendly."

 _And, 'since you nearly died on me'._

"Hmph. Please don't feed into it. Mom treats me like I'm still her fragile little girl sometimes."

Reid threw a quick glance her way. "Fragile? You?"

She smiled at him. "That's more like it. So, do I get to hear about your meeting yesterday?"

For a moment, he thought she was asking about his appointment with Anna Hughes, which reminded him of what had happened afterward, and he became flustered. Before he could recover, she saw, and immediately began probing.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

His initial reaction was to deny it. It had _always_ been his first inclination, in nearly every circumstance, learned long ago, in his boyhood. Deny that there is anything wrong, and maybe the problem would go away. Maybe the social worker would go away. Maybe, if he tried just a little bit harder, he could help his mother to get well again…

 _It's Erikson's Stage four,_ _Industry versus inferiority. If one succeeds at a task, he develops confidence. If he fails, he feels inferior._

Right now, he was feeling very inferior. The flashback episode last night had reminded him of one of the most monumental failures of his life….and it boded ill for his success in overcoming all that prison, and Cat Adams, had done to him. Speaking it aloud to JJ would solidify it. Make it impossible to deny, even to himself. But she was his closest friend. If he couldn't tell her, who could he tell? And besides…she could read him like a book.

"Spence, I can see that something's wrong. And I hope I don't have to remind you that I can be pretty tenacious when I want to be. Right now, I'm planning to be tenacious on finding out what's going on in the head of my best friend."

He heaved a great sigh. Of course he had to tell her. Not just because she would pull it out of him anyway. But because she was who she was to him. He trusted her. He could be himself with her. He could let down with her. Even if it risked him letting _her_ down. So he told her.

"I had a flashback yesterday. I didn't even see it coming. It just hit me, almost out of the blue, and I was down. I don't even know how long it lasted. But I was completely immersed. It scared me. And I don't know what it means for my ability to work."

JJ was no stranger to the power of a flashback. She'd suffered them after her abduction a few years ago, as Reid well knew. She'd resisted his initial attempts to draw her out, but he'd read her anyway, and provided her a means to help herself.

 _If only I could return the favor._

But she didn't know how. And she didn't feel strong enough. In truth, she'd suffered her own trauma for the duration of his imprisonment. The knowledge of what he'd been going through, the palpability of his fear, and his sense of abandonment…. the virtual _reality_ of that abandonment, and the helplessness of not being able to do anything to change it, had all affected her deeply. The inability to do so much as touch him, to give him a reassuring squeeze of the hand, or a pat on the arm….the inability to do something, _anything_ , to make him feel less alone, had taken its toll on her as well.

But she couldn't leave him hanging. She had to at least acknowledge that he'd told her.

"Should I ask what it was about?"

"It was about Luis. The man who was killed because I wouldn't cooperate with them."

"Spence, please. When you say it like that, it sounds like you're taking responsibility."

It took him a few seconds to respond. "I know that I'm not technically responsible. But if I hadn't been so righteous…if I hadn't insisted on not cooperating…he might still be alive."

JJ had to chew on that for a bit. She and Reid had talked about this after he'd exploded at Cat Adams. He'd said, "I'm scared that this is who I am now," and she'd assured him that he was not. At the time, she'd thought they were talking about his eventual cooperation in moving the heroin. It wasn't until she'd listened in on his subsequent conversation with Cat that she'd realized he'd actually done something to alter the drug. They'd touched on it tangentially since then, but they'd never specifically talked about it. JJ decided it was time to change that.

"Do you remember, back when we were with Cat, and I told you I would have done exactly what you did, if I'd been in your situation?"

He reddened. Of course he remembered. She'd assumed the wrong thing, and he'd been too ashamed to correct her. Too afraid of what she would think of him. To hear, just now, that she'd still been thinking of that moment….

"Yes."

"Well, I still mean it. You probably thought I would change my mind, when I heard you tell Cat you'd done something to the drugs. But I didn't. And I haven't since. I've thought about it, long and hard, and my answer still stands. I would have done exactly as you did."

He knew she was just trying to be supportive. But he knew her too well, or thought he did, to believe what she was saying.

"No, you wouldn't have. You would never knowingly have put someone's life in danger, if you didn't have to."

"But that's just the thing, Spence. That's the part you lied to Cat about. There weren't 'a hundred ways' you could have protected yourself. There was only _that_ way. And I, for one, am glad you did it. I can't even bring myself to think about what might have happened if you hadn't."

"But there were other people who got hurt. Other people…..I had this friend, Malcolm…not so much a friend, really, just someone who I worked with in the laundry room. Someone who didn't seem to want to hurt me. And they made him test the drugs, and it made him sick. And Shaw….and other guys on my block. I had no idea how widely those drugs would be used. It didn't even occur to me to think about it. All I could think about was removing the threat. And…and Luis…"

And there it was, the other thing he'd not been truthful about, even to himself. Maybe he _had_ altered the drugs to protect himself. Or maybe he'd done it as a form of revenge. Maybe both. Maybe it _had_ felt just a little bit good, at the time. But it had ceased to feel good the moment he'd seen Malcolm lying on that floor. And it had begun to feel nauseating when the cries of the others on the cell block had begun, and the blood, and the frantic calls for medics, and….

He swerved to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes even as he felt his vision narrowing. Realizing what was happening, JJ reached over from the passenger seat, threw the car into park and turned it off. Then she ran around to the driver's side, and pulled the door open. There, by the side of the road, she crouched beside him.

"Spence! Spence, look at me! Look at me. Spence, open your eyes and look at me."

He was dazed, his pulse was racing, and all he could hear was the buzzing in his ears. Then he felt gentle hands on his cheeks, turning his head, reaching up to brush the hair from his face, moving lower to lay firmly on his chest, trying to slow the rapid beating of his heart. They remained there, pressing on his chest, and remained, and, very gradually, won the battle. In time, he was able to open his eyes to the sight of his best friend, and the warm, inviting blue that always soothed him. JJ had fixed a reassuring smile on her face, betrayed by the tracks of the tears on her cheeks.

"I'm here. _You're_ here. You're with me, Spence. You're not back in Milburn. You're never going back there. Just take some deep breaths, okay? In…..out…..in…..out. Come on, do it with me, okay?"

She led him in the act most fundamental to life, determined that he would not lose his to the trauma that had brought them here. Together, they took the deep, calming breaths that would allow him to come back to himself.

JJ held his hands firmly in hers, and waited until she could no longer feel them shaking. Laying a hand on his leg, she felt for movement there as well. Once she was satisfied that he could do it, she gently helped him out of the vehicle, and brought him over to lean against the passenger side of the car.

He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Is this what happened yesterday?"

He managed to shrug and shake his head at the same time.

"I don't know. I think so. But it was shorter today, and I don't think I was ever completely out of it."

JJ wasn't so sure about that. "It probably took you a full minute to come back."

"But I felt you. I don't know that I realized it was you, but I felt your touch. I think it helped to ground me."

"Thank God for small favors." Fully intending to demand a larger one, later. "I think we should call Anna Hughes."

"I just saw her yesterday."

"I know you did, but you weren't having these flashbacks then. I think she should know about them, don't you?"

"I guess. But I'm betting she was expecting them to happen, at some point. Just not so soon."

"They can happen any time, Spence, you know that. You just can't earn the diagnosis for a month. Maybe your timeline is messed up because of how long it went on. Whatever, I just think we should call her."

He conceded. "Will you do it? I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet."

So she did, and she was insistent enough that Anna agreed to squeeze him into the thirty minute slot she usually reserved for charting. JJ's next call was to Emily Prentiss, who was also slated to start back today. JJ explained the situation.

"So, I don't know that either of us is going to make it in today. And….," turning away, so he wouldn't hear, "…I honestly don't know if he's able to work right now, Em."

"Just take care of him, JJ. I'll talk to him this afternoon. If it's better for him to work, I'll have him work. If he needs to be out, he can be out. Whatever it takes to get him back, and healthy, one day. It's not like we're doing field work anyway. Give him my love, will you?"

"Will do."

JJ closed her phone and opened the passenger door, indicating that Reid should get in. When he seemed to hesitate, she reminded him.

"I told you, I'm cleared to drive. I was just humoring you today."

He still stood there. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I scared you, before. I thought I was ready. I didn't….God, I can't become a cripple to this!"

She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "You won't. It was just because we were talking about it, I'm sure of it. You said that yesterday, it happened when you opened your bag. It was a sense memory trigger. They're avoidable. Now that we know you should avoid them, we can strategize around it. I promise you, Spence, you will _not_ lose yourself to this."

The look on his face compelled her to hold him. She drew him into an embrace, and tightened it, until she felt him relax into it. Then she whispered into his ear.

"You have the strongest will of anyone I know, Spence. You'll get through this. Bending isn't breaking. You're not going to break. I promise you."

Even as she spoke the words, she remembered having said them to him at Milburn, when they'd felt as empty as they'd sounded just now. ' _I promise'_.

But she had meant the words she'd said to him just now. Reid _was_ the strongest person she knew. If not entirely resilient, he knew how to knit a scar into a strength. He would come through this, if she had anything to say about it.

 _And I will have something to say about it._

She was, after all, the second strongest person she knew.

* * *

With Reid's permission, JJ sat in on the first part of his appointment with Anna, to describe what she'd observed of the episode.

"We were talking about…" Then she remembered exactly what they'd been talking about, and wasn't sure she should continue. But Reid encouraged her.

"It's all right, she knows. I haven't held anything back."

Anna's years of experience aided her in keeping her facial expression neutral. If Spencer Reid truly believed he hadn't kept anything back, she had a lot of work to do.

JJ continued, explaining that they'd been talking about how he'd tried to protect himself by altering the drugs being moved within the prison, purposely emphasizing the idea that he'd done it as an act of protection. Then Reid explained where his mind had gone from there.

"I was remembering when everyone started getting sick from it. There were more of them than I'd realized, and there was blood everywhere, and people were shouting, and moaning, and…"

He'd broken into a sweat, even as he was still speaking, and his breathing had become rapid, and shallow. JJ instinctively reached out for him, but Anna's raised hand stopped her. She wanted to try something.

"Spencer, keep your eyes open. Do not close your eyes. Good. Now, listen to me. I want you to look at my hand. Tell me the story again, but do not take your eyes away from my hand."

She leaned forward so that she could be closer to his field of vision, and led him through telling the whole story again. As he spoke, she moved her hand slowly back and forth, watchful for the recurrence of the previous symptoms.

JJ watched, fascinated. She'd heard of it, of course. She'd even seen the technique used before, to assist a traumatized prior victim in telling her story. It had helped them to solve that case, and saved two lives in the process.

Reid retold the story. While his respiratory rate increased slightly, he neither flushed nor paled, and his skin remained dry. When he was finished speaking, Anna withdrew her hand and sat back.

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible."

He'd said it with such abject misery, even in the face of such an obvious decrease in his symptoms, that it was almost comical, and both women smiled.

"But you got through it, Spence. That's what's important."

Anna agreed. "Right now, it would just be a band-aid, just something to alleviate the symptoms, if we can get it to work. Down the road, it might actually help you achieve full recovery. But it does look like you're a candidate for EMDR."

Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing had proven to be a surprisingly effective treatment for the flashbacks often associated with PTSD. There were a number of studies documenting its success in desensitization, but very little regarding its use as a secondary prevention measure. But that was just what Anna Hughes was proposing.

"We'll still have work to do, you and I," said Anna, thinking of Reid's almost purposeful lack of insight about what his experience had done to him, "but I think it's worth a try for me to refer you to my colleague, Jeff Meadows. He's been working with EMDR for over a decade now, and there's no one I trust more with it."

Both women watched and waited. Reid's response was slow in coming, but it was what they'd wanted to hear.

"If he can keep me functional, yes, of course I'll try it. When can I start?"


	16. Chapter 16

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 16**_

Encouraged, the pair left Anna Hughes and returned to the parking lot. Reid hesitated a moment before conceding the job of driving to JJ. Although calmer than he'd been before, he was clearly still too shaken to concentrate on work, both by the content of his flashbacks, and by the fact that he'd had them. At least, it was clear to one of them.

"What do you say we burn off some of that nervous energy? Are you up for a good long walk?"

"JJ, we're supposed to be at work. I'll settle down." _I hope._

She gave him a look. "I already told Emily we wouldn't be in today."

"What? Why?"

She put the car in gear and started out of the small parking lot.

"Listen, I am the queen of denial, as you well know. But if you think you should be at work today, you're in the running for 'king'."

"I can't let this get in the way of work. Scratch is still out there. Until we find him, we can't assume that any of us are safe. Not to mention all the rest of our caseload."

A stoplight gave her a chance to turn and look at him. "I know that. Which is why we need to get ourselves healthy. All of us, and all the way healthy. Spence, this just started happening. It took almost a week, right? Which tells me that you were too close to it before. Your mind has been protecting you, until now."

He understood what she was saying. "I've gotten enough distance from it. Some perspective. Even if I can't quite get my thoughts to settle, they're not as jumbled as they were a week ago."

In reality, he'd been _highly_ focused, for the length of time that he'd needed to be, with Cat Adams. But, once the threat to his mother had been removed, and the prison-mediated threat to his own life had been ended, his mind had let loose, and he'd only just begun to reel it back in.

"Exactly. Your mind is re-presenting the events to you, so that you can re-process them. But it's going to take a while, even using EMDR. And you, my friend, need to respect how physically depleting it is to go through a flashback."

All he could do was sigh. "You're right, I know. I just don't like it."

"You _resent_ it."

"Yes! No…maybe." _And maybe I deserve it._

She threw another glance his way. "That's how I felt about Tivon Askari."

Reid's brows went up at the name. JJ knew why he was surprised.

"Yes, I can say his name now. Because I am done with him having control over any part of me. Not my memories, not my physiology….not any part of my life."

He smiled, in spite of his own situation. She was telling him that he could win the battle, too, no matter how insurmountable it looked. He'd been so worried about her, back then. She'd seemed so fragile, so close to breaking. And so determined to go through it alone. He'd reached out, and she'd verbally and emotionally slapped him away. But he'd not given up on her. He'd come back, offering a lifeline to her, holding it at arms' length. And she'd taken it, and used it to find her way back.

Their friendship was full of moments like that, memories like that. Steadfastness like that. Reminded, Reid gave in.

"Okay. Let's go for that walk."

* * *

The area was known for its walking trails. JJ chose a familiar one, a favorite, because it wove a path in and out of the woods, following the rambling of a small stream.

"It's so weird to be here on a weekday, with almost no one around. When I come here on the weekends, with the boys, it might as well be a six-lane highway. It's nice to be able to hear the water."

He teased her. "Weren't you supposed to be the one who's afraid of the woods?"

"You know I made that up to rag on Morgan." Which reminded her. "Have you heard from him?"

"He came to see me at Rossi's, that first night. But I haven't spoken with him since. Does he even know?"

When he'd said goodbye to Morgan, all they'd known was that the team had gone after Scratch. That Scratch had also gone after the team might still be news to Morgan.

"I think Garcia was afraid to tell him, since there was literally nothing he could have done about it. He would have blown a gasket If he'd known about Scratch taking out our vehicles. For that matter, I understand why you didn't want him to know about you. It would have driven him crazy, not being able to help you. I speak as the voice of experience."

Reid shuffled along beside her, his hands in his pockets.

"You _did_ do something to help me. You gave me something to hold on to. Some _one_ to hold on to. A reason to keep trying."

JJ slid her arm through the crook of his, and grinned up at him.

"If I kept you grounded, I'm glad. I don't like feeling helpless, and it was pretty much the _only_ thing I felt, for most of that time."

 _Along with anguish, and frustration, and a longing to talk it all over with my best friend._

She was talking with her best friend _now_. Part of her wanted to go through it with him, to pull out every single splinter of pain and fear and injustice and loneliness and hopelessness, and heal the wounds, together. But the best of her knew he couldn't do it now. Maybe he wouldn't be able to do it, ever. Maybe it would have to go unexamined, as they both moved into the next parts of their lives.

The latter thought worried her, as she knew that unattended wounds were the most likely to fester. Still, it wasn't the time. They were here, on the trail, to take his mind _away_ from it, to work off some of his anxiety and pent up energy. So she pulled her arm away from his and stepped up their speed.

"Come on, we're supposed to be getting some exercise!"

He took off after her, his long stride making it less difficult to keep up with her superior speed.

"Uh…are you sure you're supposed to be exercising? I mean, driving is one thing, but running…."

"This isn't running. And besides, by next week, I'll probably be cleared for it." She changed the subject before he could challenge her. "So, do I get to hear about your meeting with that lawyer?"

"You mean Clare? MC?"

"Ah, you're on an initial basis already, are you?"

"She told me she uses her initials because her name sounded too much like a nun. MC stands for Mary Clare, and she goes by Clare."

"Fair enough. So, what did 'Clare' have to say? Garcia mentioned the Innocence Project?"

"You've heard of it, right?" When JJ indicated that she had, he continued. "Well, they want to move beyond cases where there is DNA evidence. So she wants me to help them pick cases where the person convicted doesn't fit the profile, because she thinks that would be a good way to prioritize."

JJ took that in for a few paces before responding. "That's kind of a lot of responsibility, isn't it? I mean, think of how often we adjust the profile along the way, as new information comes in. What if the cases you look at were closed too early? What if there hasn't been enough information compiled?"

She had a point, and the fact that he hadn't thought of it already troubled him. "You're right. It does take a critical number of facts and events before we can settle on a profile. I would have to factor that in."

She gave him a sideways look. "Does that mean you've already decided to help her?"

He shrugged. "Not yet. But I have to admit that I'm intrigued. And I am intimately familiar with what it feels like to be an innocent man in prison. If I can help anyone going through what I went through, then, yes, I want to."

She smiled at him. It sounded like a healthy response to his experience and, if he managed to help even one innocent person, it could go a long way to bringing him back to wholeness.

"Then I'm glad she reached out. They're lucky to have you."

He smiled back. "Actually, you're the reason she reached out. She saw that article in the paper….the one you called in favors about."

"Then it was well worth it. You shouldn't have had to go through any of what you did, and you definitely shouldn't have had to carry it as part of your reputation." She slowed her step and put a hand on his shoulder. "If I could have, I'd have shouted it from the rooftops. I can be pretty loud when I need to be."

He laughed. "Is that where Henry and Michael get it from?"

"Oooh. Just for that, I'm taking you out for Chinese for lunch. Then we can go and visit your mom."

"JJ, you don't have to give up your whole day for me."

"We're already called out. What was I going to do with the day that would be better than spending some time with my best friend and his mom? Laundry?"

* * *

Chinese food wasn't quite the punishment that it had once been, but only because he'd learned to ask for a fork while he was giving his order. Over lunch, JJ caught Reid up on all of the adventures and accomplishments of his godsons for the duration of his imprisonment. Penelope Garcia had provided her own version of the stories immediately upon his release, but he'd retained none of it.

"Wow. I had no idea fourth grade girls were so boy crazy. Of course, I was probably all of six when I went through it, and all they seemed to want to do was to pat me on the head."

"Yeah, well. Henry has been told he's 'hot' by no fewer than three girls! 'Hot', in the fourth grade! I have no idea how to handle this."

"Does it _need_ to be handled? I mean….does Henry return the sentiment?"

"No, thank God. He's still icked out by girls. I'm trying to see if I can preserve that for another five or six years."

"What does Will say?"

"Ha. Will says, 'Chip off the old block'," delivered in her best New Orleans accent. "He reminded me that he was pretty much a ladies' man before he met me."

Reid made a face. "Henry's outgrowing me. I'm not exactly positioned to give him advice about girls. I thought I'd have a few more years to get him excited about _science_."

"You'll have them. He still idolizes his godfather." She hesitated a moment before adding, "Spence, he took it hard, what happened to you."

Reid remembered how Henry had clung to him in JJ's hospital room. But….

"I, uh…JJ, I didn't realize you'd told him about it."

"I had to. I mean, at first, no. I just told him you were on a special case. I thought it would end quickly, and that you'd be home. But, when it went on for so long…. he's too bright, and he's too tuned into my moods. He wasn't having it. So I told him that there had been a very serious mistake made. A mix-up, that was keeping you from being able to come home."

"Did you tell him I was in prison?"

Feeling ashamed that Henry might know, in spite of the fact that he'd done nothing to deserve it.

"No. No, I couldn't do that to either of you. I don't know what he actually thought, because I was too much of a coward to rock the boat trying to find out. But I do know that he was very worried that you might be lonely, being away all by yourself. That's why he wanted to make sure I sent you that picture. I didn't tell him I was delivering it personally."

Reid wasn't surprised at the sensitivity of his godson, but he was very touched to be the recipient of it.

"I hope you told him it helped."

"Of course I did. But he was still worried. I know it helped him to see you at the hospital, but that was hardly a reassuring circumstance. Spence, I know you might not feel quite ready yet, but I also know that he really needs to spend some time with you. As soon as you think you can handle it, come over for dinner. Or maybe for brunch some Saturday. I actually think it will be good for both of you."

He knew she was probably right, but considering the reason why they were having this conversation over a restaurant lunch in the middle of a work day, he thought it best to wait.

"Soon." _I hope._

* * *

They were both apprehensive walking into Mountain Laurel, but a stop at the desk provided assurance that Diana had been having a good day, and could be found in the library. They discovered her sitting in a reading nook, a heavy volume open in her lap. As they approached, Reid greeted her.

"Hi, Mom."

If Diana realized her son was making an unexpectedly early visit, she didn't show it.

"Spencer! What a lovely surprise! And…..Jennifer, right? Henry and Michael's mother."

JJ grinned. "That's right. Hello, Diana. You look very well rested today."

"It's quiet here. I wasn't used to those city sounds outside Spencer's window. They gave me bad dreams."

The announcement surprised her son.

"I didn't know that, Mom. Why didn't you say anything? I could have gotten a white noise machine."

She patted his arm. "This is better, Spencer. Look what I found here."

She raised the book from her lap to show him the cover.

"Margery Kempe, your favorite."

"She is. And, look," waving a hand toward the far end of the bookshelf, "they just received a large donation of fifteenth century classics. I think I'll like it here, very much."

Caught by surprise, the two young profilers did their best to mask their suspicion about the donation.

"That's great, Mom."

They stayed for a little over an hour, until Diana seemed to tire. With a promise to call and visit as often as possible, they left her to nap, assured that an aide would look after her when she woke.

* * *

"She really seems to be adjusting well, Spence."

She'd let him drive, this time, so she could assess his steadiness.

"Thank God. I was holding my breath until we saw her in the library."

"Can you believe Rossi?"

"I love Rossi. And I'm going to tell him that, right after I thank him profusely. Having those books there is a godsend."

"A Rossi-send."

"Same thing."

When they arrived at JJ's, Reid begged off going inside.

"But tell Henry I'll see him soon. Maybe this weekend. I may not _feel_ ready for a while, but I've got to start living my life again. Not to mention I miss him like crazy."

She grinned. "He'll be happy to hear it. Sure you're okay driving? Will could always pick me up if I took you to your place."

"You don't think I'm ready?"

"You're fine, as long as you have company." She snapped her fingers. "I have an idea." She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek before exiting the car. "Bye, Spence. Did I mention how wonderful it is to have you back? Today almost felt like old times."

"Really? I can't remember spending this much non-work time together since….since…"

"Since that football game!"

He tried to look stern. "Which is still top secret."

She crossed her heart. "Forever."

He smiled at her. "I feel like I'm always saying this, but it's because you're always there for me. Thanks, JJ."

"We're going to get through this together, Spence. I'll stay out of your way when you want to be alone. But, when you don't, you've got me. Always."

He grinned as he put the car in gear and drove away. He'd barely reached the highway when his cell sounded, and he answered without looking at the number.

"Hello, this is Dr. Reid."

"Always. Like now. I have someone here who'd love to talk with his Uncle Spence."

Reid smiled to himself, realizing what she was doing. She planned to keep his mind occupied for the duration of his trip home, heading off any possibility of another episode. And she'd turned it into an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Hi, Uncle Spence!"

"Hi, Henry! Sorry I missed you this morning."

"That's all right. I had a sleepover with my friend. But Mommy said you're gonna visit us! When, Uncle Spence?"

Without waiting for an answer to his question, Henry launched into a full recounting of all of his sleepover, and all of his summer adventures to date, and the new ones he planned to share with his godfather. By the time he finally stopped for air, Reid was pulling to the curb at his apartment. Still, he felt obliged to ask.

"Henry, your mom was telling me about how some of the girls in your class like you."

"Yeah."

"Do _you_ like _them_?"

"Uncle Spe-ence! They're _girls_!"

Reid offered a silent word of thanks. "You're right. Don't know what I was thinking."


	17. Chapter 17

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 17**_

Much to Reid's chagrin, he hadn't gotten to see Henry that weekend, and it wasn't looking promising for the upcoming weekend, either.

 _I have no idea how people do this. Between two appointments with Anna every week, and now three with Jeff Meadows, and checking in on Mom, I'm barely working enough to earn my paycheck. What if I had a physical illness? What if those beatings had left me with a permanent physical disability, on top of all of this?_

He knew he should have canceled with MC Ryan, and he would have, except that he couldn't find her card. He'd started to look up the Innocence Project office number, but then just decided he would go in person to give her the bad news.

 _I want to do it. I should do it. But I just don't have the time right now._

He had, however, looked at the sample cases she'd given him. The most challenging part of his analysis had been in judging the quality of the information available, just as JJ had suggested. He had to take into account how far along the investigation had been, and pay attention to the timeline, noting which reports had been simply confirmatory, received after the arrest, and which had contributed to it. He knew confirmation bias to be a very real risk in law enforcement.

To increase his chance of correctly choosing the overturned verdict, he'd made an independent profile of each of the suspects, and even each of the witnesses. If, one day, he should have the time to help the project, there would be a substantial weight of responsibility to get it right.

All of it had taken much longer than he'd thought it would, but he'd enjoyed the need to be painstaking about the details, because it had felt so refreshingly like putting together a puzzle. It felt familiar, and normal, in a criminal profiler kind of way, to use his brain like that. He'd actually gotten lost in the activity, and emerged from it, several hours later, surprised at the passage of time.

He'd mentioned that to JJ, and she'd immediately encouraged him to continue the work.

"It will be good for you, Spence. And it's not like you would be on a schedule with them. You could just do it whenever you have the time, and give them your opinion when you're ready."

Even as she'd pressed him, JJ had realized the irony of exhorting her best friend to relax by spending time on more criminal cases. But she also knew how badly he needed to break the cycle of rumination going on inside his head. If working with the Innocence Project could accomplish that, she was all for it.

* * *

Reid followed the same pattern as last week, depositing his car at home, and taking the Metro back to the city. He would, once again, see Anna Hayes after his meeting with MC.

This time he spotted her right away, already seated, scrolling through her phone, two coffees sitting in front of her. He made his way through the intervening tables, and stood at the seat across from her until she felt his presence, and looked up.

"Hi."

"Hello, Dr. Reid." Pausing, then, "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Uh…oh, yes, thank you."

Once he'd taken his seat, she pushed a coffee across to him.

"Black, as you like it."

"Thanks, but you really didn't have to…"

"I wanted to. Besides, a girl should never drink alone. Right?"

"Uh…right."

She did look young, but not quite a girl. He wondered how old she was, and did some mental calculations.

 _Provided she progressed through school at the usual pace, she would have been 24 or 25 when she finished law school. Then she probably had some entry level position for a couple of years, and then the Project. So…maybe around thirty?_

Once upon a time, his social skills had been so poorly developed that he might have simply blurted it out and asked her. But his social skills had matured along with the rest of him, and were fully developed now…well, _almost_ fully developed. He was still tongue-tied around a pretty girl. Or woman.

Had it been more healthy, the observer part of his brain would have processed that he'd been too mired in the detritus of his life to react to her last week. That the fact that he was reacting now just might represent a first, miniscule sign of rebuilding. But his observer was still struggling to emerge from the place where he'd locked it away during his time in prison, too traumatized to allow it to show himself to himself. Even the talented Anna Hayes had been stymied in coaxing it out.

MC's own social skills were her forte, both in her personal life and in the courtroom. They cued her to his discomfort at the same time that she wondered why she hadn't picked up on it last week.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure you're very busy. I should probably just get right to the point. So….what did you think?" Her eyes gesturing to the case folders he'd placed on the table in front of him.

"I'm not that busy…..well, I am, but…..it's just that I have an appointment in about forty minutes, and it's nearby, so I'm not going back to work in between, so….."

He stopped, realizing he was over-explaining. She saved him.

"So you have a little while for me? Great….that's my good luck!"

His smile was superficial. _Yeah, that's me, Spencer Reid, Mr. Good Luck. Make that Dr. Good Luck._

MC either didn't pick up on it, or decided not to comment. Instead, she asked again.

"So, what did you think? Were you able to profile which case we got overturned, and which was upheld?"

The question, and his fascination with the process he'd undergone in performing the analysis, brought him out of himself.

"I think so. It was more complicated than I'd thought, at first. A friend pointed out to me that there are more factors to take into account, beyond what's overtly in the case files."

That intrigued her, and she leaned forward.

"Like what?"

So he explained about the need to study timelines, and how much investigation had taken place before the arrest, and how the profile can change some times, and his process of reverse-profiling, testing each victim, witness and suspect back against his general profile of the unsub.

She listened, a look of intense focus on her face, and impressed Reid by being able to follow his long explanation.

"So….wow. I guess I never realized how complex it was going to be, but you're right, it's too big a deal to get it wrong."

Her words made him wonder. "It's got to carry the same weight of responsibility for you, hasn't it? I mean, don't you ever worry about getting it wrong?"

She was quiet for so long that he began to examine his words, sure he'd said something to offend her, and mentally kicking himself for having done so. She interrupted his internal dialogue.

"I worry about it every day. And, before you ask, I _did_ get it wrong, once. Once that I know of, anyway."

She was clearly still distressed about it, prompting Reid to respond.

"Do….do you want to talk about it?" Unable to restrain his empathy, even with this virtual stranger.

She took a sip of her coffee, and stared off into the distance, until she was ready.

"I got someone off because the real perpetrator…or the person I _thought_ was the real perpetrator…offended again, and, that time, his DNA went into the system. It matched the DNA found at the scene of the original murder. My client had been convicted without a DNA match, because the circumstantial evidence was so strong. But, two months after he was released…he shot a security guard in an armed robbery. The guard died."

Reid was quick to assure her. "That doesn't mean you got it wrong."

"Dr… _Spencer_...my client _killed_ someone, after I got his murder conviction overturned."

"Clare, there's a reason some people are arrested for crimes they haven't committed. Some of them are already on the radar of law enforcement, for various reasons, and that's what puts the target on them when they're anywhere near a crime. It's entirely possible your client was an easy arrest for law enforcement because he was already known to them. _That's_ what put him at higher risk of reoffending after his release, not the fact that you helped him get out. Your client may well not have committed the murder he was convicted of. You were right to get him freed. But that doesn't mean he wasn't a criminal. You don't own the responsibility of that security guard's death."

She stared at him with intensity. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do."

"God, I hope you're right."

 _So do I._ Surprised to realize how much he meant that.

She looked so relieved that he was glad he'd spoken up, whether or not it had been true. Maybe it was enough that it _could_ have been true.

She played with her napkin, smiling introspectively.

"I guess my dad was right. Profilers _are_ pretty cool."

Staring at her hands, she couldn't see Reid's brows go up. He couldn't remember ever having heard himself called 'cool' before.

"Your dad?"

"He was a cop."

"Oh, right. You told me that. Here in DC?" Wondering if Will LaMontagne might be an acquaintance. Except for the word 'was'.

"NYPD. Forty years, before he retired."

"Wow. So…"

"He was a patrolman during the summer of 1976."

"Ah. Son of Sam."

She looked up. "You know about him?" Clearly he was too young to have been alive in 1976.

"I've read the case files. They're part of basic training for profilers now."

She nodded. "Well…Dad been working patrol for a few years when the shootings started. It was pretty intense, I guess. My older brothers told me that he wouldn't let anybody in the family travel into the city until the guy was caught. And then, the simplest thing…."

"A parking ticket."

"Exactly! But Dad always said it was good patrol work…..someone had to actually issue the ticket, after all….and _great_ detective work, that caught him. Right after that case, Dad applied to become a detective. And he retired as a detective, three plus decades later."

Reid smiled at the obvious pride in her voice.

"You mentioned that he liked profilers. Did he ever work a case with the BAU?"

"I think he did, back in early nineties, but I don't know what the case was about. I was just a kid, and he didn't bring that kind of work home. I know that, back about ten years ago, it wasn't his case, but the BAU came to the city to work on a terrorism thing. That was another time Dad wouldn't let any of us into the city, because people were being shot at random. Anyway, the son of one of his best friends was shot, during that case, and a profiler saved his life."

"Emily Prentiss."

"You know her?"

"She's my boss. She wasn't then, we were just members of the same team. But I remember everything about that case."

Her eyes went wide. "You were _there_? Oh, wow. Wow. I didn't even think…"

"I've been with the BAU since 2004."

"Thirteen years? But you look so young!"

"I thought you said you'd googled me."

"Well, yes, I did. But I just read some articles. I didn't pay attention to the dates. You….do you mind if I ask how old you are?"

He laughed, though she didn't understand why.

"I'll be thirty-six, this fall."

"How… you were barely in your twenties when you joined the BAU?!"

"Twenty-two….and a half."

"But how….wait. You already had your PhD by then?"

"Three of them. I'm working on my fourth now, in philosophy. And my bachelor's in theology."

"You must be a genius."

"Um….literally, yes."

Her eyes widened again. "Really, you're a genius? Certifiable?"

He laughed again. "It feels that way, sometimes."

She blushed. "I didn't mean it that way. Just. Wow. And I thought _I_ was smart."

This was familiar territory for Reid. All of the people he worked with were highly intelligent. And it was never appropriate for his gifts to eclipse theirs.

"You _are_ smart. I just have a high IQ, that's all. I try to put it to good use. And I read a lot."

She smiled at him. "Wow. A certified genius. And nice, to boot."

 _And way too good-looking to have your face buried in a book all the time._

Reid felt the vibration from his phone and pulled it out. The screen showed the alert for his appointment with Anna Hughes. Another big change from his pre-prison self. He'd never needed to use the calendar feature before.

"I have to go, I'm sorry. So... I think it was the pizza delivery case. That was the one you got off."

She was impressed. "Yes! See, I knew you could help us. But…." Reading the look of regret on his face…"it's too time consuming, isn't it? Too big an imposition."

Her words were laden with a tone of disappointment that Reid couldn't help but notice, and regret. He'd come here to tell her that he simply didn't have the time right now. Maybe one day, but not right now. But those weren't the words that he heard come out of his mouth.

"I can do it if you can be patient. You're doing important work here, Clare, and I can't walk away from it. But I can't walk away from my own work, either. So, if you can be flexible about it, I'll do as much as I can, whenever I can."

 _I will? Who exactly is in charge of my mouth right now?_

"OMG, thank you, Spencer! Thank you! You won't regret it, I promise. There are people we'll be able to help, innocent people, who don't deserve what's happened to them. Thank you!"

He pushed his chair back, and rose, shouldering his messenger bag.

"Thank _you_ , for asking me. It's not something I'd ever thought of, but I'm grateful to be a part of it."

This time, he had the presence of mind to get her phone number before walking away. He would call her when he had time to come to her office and look through some files. He was pretty sure that would be sooner than planned.

 _Because this is all so intriguing. The cases, I mean._


	18. Chapter 18

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 18**_

"Do _you_ see progress, Spencer?"

Anna Hughes was both pleased and frustrated with her patient. More accurately put, she was frustrated _for_ her patient, and she didn't want him to lose faith that the process would work.

"I guess. I mean, the sessions with Dr. Meadows are helping, I think. I can talk about things a little more now, without getting anxious…..well, without getting _as_ anxious."

She gave him a slow nod, not quite affirming, but not outright disagreeing, either. She'd spoken with Jeff Meadows. Reid was definitely making progress with EMDR, and had been able to talk in more depth about some of the more traumatic events that had occurred during his imprisonment, although he'd yet to get through any of them entirely without becoming symptomatic.

What concerned Anna more was the superficiality of _her_ sessions with him. When he'd come to her before, almost five years ago, he'd proven to be remarkably insightful. But clear insight seemed to be just beyond his grasp, now. _Just_ beyond. As though there was some as yet invisible barrier keeping him from reaching it.

 _It's my job to break that barrier down, without breaking my patient. But he's not opening up enough for me to see it yet._

Maybe it would help to start over. At their first session, he'd shared the facts of the ordeal. Since then, she'd been trying to guide him back gently into each situation, for the purpose of uncovering his emotional reaction to them, both in the moment, and now. It had been extremely slow going, and she was having difficulty discerning why. His flashbacks had been about events later in the course of his ordeal, but he seemed to be having difficulty examining even the earlier events. At this pace, it would be weeks, or even months, before she could bring him to any thematic insights.

"Okay. I understand that you still don't have full memory of the events that occurred in Mexico, prior to your arrest. It's possible Jeff may be able to help with that, if your subconscious is repressing the images of the murder. So, let's move to the beginning of your time in Milburn, shall we?"

Reid could only wish that he had a subconscious that suppressed anything, but he didn't. For the entirety of his life, it had insisted upon presenting one traumatic image to him after another, in both his waking and sleeping moments. No, his subconscious wasn't repressing anything….about Mexico, anyway. He drug-addled brain had simply failed to record much of what had happened. So he agreed to begin with Milburn, pretending not to remember that they'd done the same thing, two sessions ago.

"All right."

"Good. So, you'd expected to be released on bail at your hearing, but you were remanded into custody and, shortly thereafter, put on a bus heading to a federal prison. That must have been frightening."

"It was. But my lawyer had been able to speak with me, and she'd told me I would be in protective custody." Already dismissing any discussion of his fear.

Anna tilted her head. "Did that alleviate your anxiety?"

"Well, yes. Except that it didn't happen."

That wasn't quite what she'd wanted to hear. So she tried again.

"Spencer, are you saying you weren't intimidated by the idea of being in prison, until you found out you wouldn't be in protective custody?"

"I….yes, I guess. I thought I could take it."

Anna glanced down at her notes from their first visit this go-round. She'd described his body language with each event as he'd unfurled the facts for her that day. Entrance into prison had caused him to flush, and wring his hands.

"Spencer, you'd been inside a prison before, hadn't you?"

"Many times, as part of my work."

"So, you were familiar with the environment, and the general routine of prison life."

He hesitated. "Not as much as you might think. I'd mostly interviewed serial killers, either for research or for casework. I'd observed their environments, of course, but they were mostly in isolation cells, and I did most of my interviewing in visitation rooms. I guess it wasn't quite a full picture."

"So, you were entering into a rather great unknown, weren't you? A potentially dangerous one."

He looked at her, but didn't respond. So she continued, still looking for whatever had caused his earlier reaction.

"I'm going to hazard a guess that you'd never witnessed the process of entry into prison, either, had you?"

That caused a break in eye contact, and a very soft, "No."

Anna briefly closed her eyes as she heaved a large, silent, preparatory breath _. At last._

"It wasn't what you'd imagined?"

He shook his head. "I'd never even thought about it. Not even when I was on the bus."

Anna leaned forward. He'd just attempted to deflect, and she wasn't going to let him. They could talk about the bus later.

"What happened when the bus got to the prison?"

He'd recounted the sequence of events for her before. He did so again, ending the same way.

"And then we were processed." The wringing of his hands began again, prompting Anna to push.

"What does that mean? How were you processed?"

Already knowing the answer, from having worked with others both rightfully and wrongfully imprisoned. The only difference in the experience was the psyche of the person who'd suffered it.

"We were brought to a large holding cell, and they called us out, two at a time, to shower and go through medical."

If she hadn't been reading his body language, Anna might have let that go. There was no real reason to humiliate him a second time. But his demeanor told her otherwise.

"Were you searched?"

He closed his eyes, and bit his lip.

"Spencer. I can see that this is painful. If you don't want to talk about it, we won't. But you know as well as I do that the memory isn't going to disappear. I'm here to try to help you manage it."

She'd given him an out, and nearly every part of him wanted to take it. But his desire for healing was stronger.

"I know that. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry about anything. Only you can decide what to do. I'll support you, regardless."

"I want to get better. I can't work like this. I can't _live_ like this."

"Then walk through it, Spencer. _Aware_. You'll be safe. I'll be with you."

"All right. I guess I should back up, then. I was _marched_ with the other prisoners to this large holding room, and we were ordered to strip, and they took the clothes we'd been wearing. They only took us out two at a time, so we were all standing around naked."

"And you felt exposed."

"Oh, believe me, I've been _more_ exposed. If you ever have a full day to set aside, I'll tell you about my childhood. I just thought I'd put that kind of thing behind me."

Without fully understanding, Anna sympathized. "Some of us are more private than others. If you're not used to the locker room, it can be very intimidating."

"Not as intimidating as the shower was. They brought us in, and watched us wash ourselves. When we were finished, they sprayed us with a pediculicide."

"A what?"

"A pediculicide. Something to kill lice. Then they took us into a smaller cell, where we had our cavity searches done. And _then_ , they gave us clothes."

"Spencer…." She couldn't trust him to volunteer it. She would have to ask. "Did anyone touch you inappropriately?"

Reid's eyes widened and his cheeks became infused with a dull red. "There's nothing appropriate about a cavity search. I'm just not that used to being touched at all, and especially not there. But, no, I wasn't molested, if that's what you're asking."

It hadn't been her plan to approach it today, but since they were there, she did.

"Did that remain true? Were you ever approached sexually? Were you ever touched? At any point?"

"No." He'd been frightened for it, on several occasions. Not that he was about to share that with Anna Hughes.

"All right, then. Tell me about the rest of your transition into Milburn."

"After medical, which was just a blood pressure, pulse and temperature, they lined us up and walked us by a supply room, and then dumped us into another communal space, that was obviously where they meant us to stay. I tried one more time to ask the guard whether my placement there had been a mistake, but it was Wilkins, who was colluding with Cat, although I didn't know it at the time."

"How many men did you share this space with?"

"Probably about twenty. Which should have been reassuring, because what were the odds of being attacked in a place with that many witnesses?"

Anna referenced her notes again. "But you _were_ attacked, that same night, correct?"

He gave a silent nod, prompting her to continue.

"And no one tried to help you?"

That was a difficult question to answer. He had enough insight to realize she was trying to gauge his sense of abandonment and isolation. But, that first night, he'd been pulled away and surrounded by his attackers, out of view of most of the men in the holding room. He'd been gagged before he could issue much of a cry for help. At the time, he'd had no way to know if anyone else even knew it was happening, nor if it had happened to any of the others as well.

A succession of expressions contorted his facial features, so quickly that Anna had difficulty interpreting.

"Spencer, what is it?"

His gaze fell to the middle distance, and he shook his head in self-derision.

"I should have seen it then. I should have known right away. Someone did help me. But my 'savior' hadn't been in that holding room. Somehow, he'd been moving freely within the prison, and it didn't even occur to me."

"You were frightened, and in an unfamiliar circumstance. You weren't thinking clearly."

Reid's gaze was still in that middle distance, but the images in his head were as close and vibrant as if they were happening in the moment. His pulse quickened, and his heart began to pound, making it hard to catch his breath. Seeing, Anna rose from her chair, and moved him to the couch, where she could sit beside him. This was the first time he'd been symptomatic in her presence. It wasn't a tool she used very often, but Anna had found that helping a patient to walk through a flashback could be more productive than helping them avoid them. The trick was to get them to happen only in the setting of therapy.

"You're safe here, Spencer. Nothing can hurt you. Do you feel my hand on your arm?" To his nod, she responded, "Good. Now, I want you to tell me about what happened, and how you felt. Whenever you get anxious, feel the weight of my hand on your arm. It will remind you that you're not alone, and that you are now in a different place. All right?"

When he agreed, she brought him back there.

"All right. You were attacked that first night, by other men in the holding cell, is that correct?"

"They'd tried to get me to join their gang. Said the whites had to band together, because we were the minority in prison. I'd turned them down."

"And you're not sure if they specifically targeted you, or if they'd done the same with others."

He shook his head. "I wasn't sure _then_. I'm sure _now_. I _was_ targeted. There was one person who knew I was a fed, and he sent them after me, just so he could rescue me."

Quickly, Anna pulled over her notebook and scribbled a few things. There were some logic issues to what Reid had just said, but she didn't want to distract him from processing the emotion just now.

"Let's go back into the moment, shall we? Before you realized anything about this man who was manipulating the situation. Let's just explore what it felt like, then. Do you feel ready for that? Remember, my hand is still on your arm."

Reid tried some purposeful deep breathing, hoping to slow his heart. "Ready or not, I have to, don't I?"

Most patients would have turned her down, too frightened to proceed until a much later point in therapy. Reid had just shown Anna Hayes something about the depth of his courage, and won a special place in her heart in the process.

"You will never have to do anything you're not ready for, Spencer. But, you're right. 'Ready' is a relative term."

That won her a small smile, and a promise. "If you think I should, I'll do it, whatever it is. I trust you. And I don't want to lose the rest of my life to this. I can't."

She gave his arm a reassuring pat. "You won't. That much, I can promise." Because wanting to get well was more than half the battle.

She led him back into his first night in federal prison. "You'd been pulled away from the cell, restrained by….how many men?" Remembering such detail would bring him back into that moment.

"Three, I think. There might have been another one behind me. It was dark, it was hard to see. But one of them had something sharp, I could see that."

"Because it reflected the light?"

"Because it was right in front of my left eye." Getting agitated.

"Go on." Monitoring his carotid as much as she was his facial expression.

He tried a few more calming breaths before continuing. "They'd gagged me, at first. Tied my hands behind my back with a bedsheet. And at least two of him were still holding my arms. But, when the shiv came out…..I stopped. I stopped struggling, I think I might even have stopped breathing. They must have seen it, because they took the gag out. They could tell I was too paralyzed by fear to do anything."

"Did you think they would kill you?"

"They'd said they wanted to teach me a lesson. That _might_ have meant they wanted to kill me. But, in that moment, I thought they meant to take my eye. I thought I would lose my eye!"

Anna increased the pressure on his arm. "You're all right, Spencer. This is just a memory. We'll get through it together."

He closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing for a good thirty seconds. Then he was ready to continue.

"They had the shiv at my cheek, when I heard someone call them off. At first, I thought it was a guard, but all I could look at was that shiv. Then I realized it was another prisoner. Calvin Shaw."

Anna's eyes narrowed. "They just obeyed him?"

Reid nodded. "That should have been my clue. That, and the fact that he was moving freely about the prison, after lights out, when he was supposed to be locked in his cell."

Now she understood. "This was the mastermind you spoke of?"

"Except that it took me weeks to figure that out. I should have known. I was stupid….stupid…"

There, just there. A frisson of that invisible barrier, that obstacle to her being able to really help him. But it remained ill-defined for Anna Hayes.

 _Is it his self-image? He's brilliant, but he's chastising himself as stupid. Is it that simple?_

But it didn't seem so. He _was_ brilliant, and he should have been able to get beyond his mistakes. She probed a bit, testing.

"Spencer, why are you upset with yourself for not understanding it right away? You'd been through a terrible ordeal, your life turned upside down. It seems like you've set an impossible standard for yourself."

A bitter snort preceded Reid's response. "I don't think I could possibly have set the bar low enough."

"What does that mean?"

He shook it off. "Nothing. Nevermind. It's …. It's just a difficult memory, that first attack. That's all."

Anna stared at him. He might as well have lowered a shield, and she still didn't understand why. If he was holding something back, it was likely he'd held it back from the others as well. She was going to have to pull it out of him herself.

But the time for their session was coming to an end. She had to move him back to a place of relative comfort, even if she also had to leave him with something to work on.

"So, once Calvin Shaw told the men to release you…..were you safe? Did you feel safe?"

He came back from wherever his mind had gone.

"Yes and no. The guys who were called off had been the most obvious threat. But there was still a room full of other men, and it was still dark. I didn't close my eyes at all, not that I thought it would have mattered. I'd been completely helpless with those men who attacked me. There was nothing I could have done to stop them from doing whatever they wanted to do to me. If I hadn't been saved by Calvin, it's just possible we wouldn't be here, right now. On some level, I knew that, no matter whether my eyes were open or shut, I would have been completely helpless again, if there had been more than one or two of them who wanted to hurt me."

She studied him. "Some men would have given up, right there, Spencer. They would have closed their eyes, and let whatever was going to happen, happen. You didn't."

"I was innocent."

Another frisson, but she still couldn't put her finger on it.

"Yes, you were innocent. So you believed that you would be released soon? You were focused on achieving your freedom?"

"I….maybe. I guess I still thought it could happen, then. Pretty much from the time I left the federal jail, on my way to Milburn….I remember thinking that, whatever happened, I should just keep my head down. Do whatever I was told to do, not give anyone a reason to notice me. Try to hold on long enough for the team to investigate, and exonerate me."

"That's what you thought would happen, right along? That you would be exonerated?"

"I _was_ exonerated. It happened."

"But not for a very long time. That's not what you assumed when you were on the bus, was it?"

Reid's head hung loosely forward, and his voice was barely a whisper. "No. It wasn't."


	19. Chapter 19

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 19**_

Four weeks in, and the team was due to be functionally reactivated in a few days. All of them were back full time now, but Matt Cruz had been playing it safe, allowing them to work 9 to 5, but keeping them in the office, testing their endurance, as well as their cohesiveness.

He'd asked Emily Prentiss for a report on each, paying special attention to the most emotionally traumatized of them, Spencer Reid.

"He's fully functioning, if that's what you're asking. He's been running our cold case files, and he's made more progress in a month than I ever made in six, back when I was in the bullpen. He's still out for a couple of hours a day, but he finishes his EMDR this week, and his therapist is willing to be flexible around his schedule."

Cruz gave a single nod, in acknowledgement, but not necessarily in agreement.

"That's good to hear, but it's not quite what I was asking. How is he emotionally? How is his temperament? I need to know that another team member can rely on him in the field."

Emily was more circumspect in her answer this time.

"He's …. getting there. It was tough on him, Matt. I think we need to expect that it will take him a while to feel like himself again. But I don't have any doubts about him in the field."

The section chief studied her for a minute. He'd been aware, when he'd taken Aaron Hotchner's advice about appointing her as his successor, that Emily Prentiss might have some difficulty navigating the change in role from colleague, and friend, to superior. He couldn't be quite sure which role had been speaking to him just now.

"All right, then. But, if that changes, I'll expect to hear it from you."

Emily nodded her assent. "You will."

She was just going to have to make damn sure he didn't need to hear it. But she _was_ worried, because there had been a most definite change in Reid since his initial return to the unit. He _looked_ like Reid, sort of. His hair was a less little kempt, his chin and cheeks less smooth. His ties were even more loosely tied, and sometimes were missing altogether, but in a way that made it seem like he'd simply forgotten, rather than that he'd pulled together a look that didn't require a tie. His watch was more often missing than not.

He was efficient. She'd been honest about that much. He could still out-read and out-process any other member of the team as far as case files went. But there was something almost palpably different about him. Palpable, but frustratingly unnamable.

She'd tried profiling it, as she was sure all of them had. His behavior was polite, and superficially friendly. Technically, that wasn't different. But there was a certain distance that had, in the past, been reserved for those he didn't know very well. Now, it was present with his team. His smile creased his lips, but didn't brighten his eyes. He turned down nearly every social invitation, save a few concessions to his godsons. And there was an underlying tinge of anger, maybe even of contempt. He'd almost exploded on more than one occasion, over something so minor as a missing report in a file. He'd reined it in, but just barely, and they'll all seen it.

Emily had gone to JJ about it, regretting, even as she'd done so, that she might have been asking one of her staff to break the confidence of another. And one friend, to betray the trust of another.

 _But, if he's spoken to anyone, it's to her. And I don't know how else to help him._

So she'd called JJ into her office, and asked her.

"He's not himself. We can all see that. But…. is it just part of the process of healing? Is he making progress? Has he told you anything? Is there anything that I can do?"

JJ had slumped in her seat. Emily Prentiss had just given voice to something she'd been seeing, but had been trying oh, so hard, to repress. She'd been so hopeful, in the beginning. So grateful that, at eternally long last, her best friend had resumed his rightful place in her life. Despite his flashbacks, which hadn't been unanticipated, he'd seemed on the course to recovery. But then that course had seemed to derail.

She'd spent any number of sleepless nights because of it. In tandem with those she'd spent when he'd actually been in prison, those sleepless nights had begun to take a toll on her stamina, and her endurance. Most challengingly, they'd begun to take a toll on her family. Will, who'd been so patient with her moods while Reid had been imprisoned, had little left to spare. Henry, empathic Henry, had pestered her with questions throughout, initially about why his beloved godfather hadn't been coming to visit him, and now about why he seemed so unhappy when he did. It had grown to the point where she'd limited her invitations, just to avoid discussing Reid's behavior.

She'd been afraid of this. That he would withdraw, and that she wouldn't be able to reach him. He'd done so after he'd lost Maeve, pulling back, not answering her calls, or her texts, or even her knocks on his door. He'd reverted to being the solitary creature he'd been when she'd first met him, long before the walls had been broken down between them. In the end, it had been work, and a sense of responsibility, that had drawn him out that time, and she'd latched on to him as soon as he'd emerged, and held him there. This time, the trauma had been so much more complex, and his withdrawal had taken place even as he was already back and working with his team. This time, he'd slipped out of her grasp, and gone back inside himself.

 _Oh, Spence. Please. Please don't do this. Please don't get lost in there. I can't watch you not be 'you'. I can't do this job…or anything… without the best friend I have in the world. Please. If you can't find your way out on your own, please let me help you._

She'd pondered that for a long time, what it would mean to help him find his way out. It would mean going inside, to the place where he was. It would mean visiting that place that was so dehumanizing, it had taken away the man she'd known and loved, and left behind this shell that was anything but empty. That's where the analogy fell apart. The shell _wasn't_ empty. It was filled with venom, and bile, with a disgust, maybe even a hatred, for himself and all of those around him, bubbling just beneath the surface.

If she'd been meeting him for the first time just now, JJ realized, she would have dismissed him as a miserable soul, and walked away. But she _hadn't_ just met him. She'd known him for years, known him at his _core_. And she knew she would need to fight her way through that outer crust of venom and misery, to find that core again, and draw it out.

 _Am I ready for it? Am I the right one to try?_

She emerged from her reverie, and came back to the present, and the series of questions just posed to her by Emily. JJ hesitated, not wanting to betray a most treasured, and hard re-won, confidence.

"He hasn't told me anything new. I know he's still seeing Anna Hayes, and he's just about finished with the EMDR. He did tell me that Dr. Meadows was pleased that he'd done so well with it."

"So, he'd not having flashbacks?"

"He's not _reacting_ to flashbacks. Not like he was, anyway. I'm sure the memories are still difficult, but it's not so visceral anymore."

"So….what is it, then? You've seen it, haven't you? I know Rossi has, and Garcia has been crying to me almost every day. He's not…..Reid."

"He's angry."

"Yeah, I get that, but….why? I mean, it's understandable, that he would be angry with Cat Adams. But it feels like he's angry at the world. Or at us."

She saw JJ open her mouth to speak, and then close it again, apparently having thought better of it. And Emily knew exactly what her friend was working so hard at holding back. She responded as if the words had been said aloud.

"I told you, my hands were tied. Hotch had already brought Stephen in, for the purpose of investigating Scratch. I capitalized on that, by using him to look at Reid's case."

"But the rest of us _weren't_. He knows that, Em. He knew it when he was in prison. He tried to play at not being surprised by it. He even told me that I should have been away, working a new case, instead of visiting him at Milburn. But I could see it in his eyes. He'd convinced himself we were working night and day on it, trying to get him out. It was the thing he'd been holding on to. When he found out we were still taking new cases, he realized he was on his own."

"But he wasn't! We did everything we could to try to help him!"

"And none of it was successful, was it? We couldn't get him into protective custody, we couldn't prove he'd been given scopolamine, we couldn't find Scratch, and that didn't even matter, because we were completely on the wrong path!"

Emily was quiet, prompting JJ to continue.

"It wasn't your fault, Emily. He'll see that. He'll understand."

 _Like he always does. Like he always_ has _to._

The unit chief wasn't quite satisfied with that. As much as she was unwilling to acknowledge it to Mateo Cruz, Emily _was_ a little worried about how Reid would react in the field. If he was angry with the team, rightly or wrongly, might it play into his interactions with the others? She couldn't take the chance, but she also didn't want to jeopardize the career of someone she considered to be a dear friend. So, reluctantly, she turned to another dear friend, about to burden her with a responsibility.

"Can you talk it out with him? Dig, if you need to. I don't mean to have you bear the brunt, but I don't think I'm positioned for it right now, given...everything."

She couldn't know that JJ had gotten there ahead of her, that she'd already determined that it _had_ to be she who tried to draw him out. She might have tried already, but something had held her back. After all, she and Spence had long been open with one another, and he'd already shared so much about his prison experience with her. But there had been something…. _something_ , maybe his anger, maybe not….that had told her to wait.

 _He's grieving,_ she'd thought. _He's been grieving since his mother came to live with him. He'd been grieving for her, and for a way of life that he'd lost, and then Mexico and Milburn brought him to grieve himself as well, when he lost the self-image he'd worked so hard at creating. Prison was too traumatizing a place for him to process the grief. He needs to do it now. He's just going through the phases. Isn't he? Isn't anger part of that?_

She'd concluded that he needed space. So she'd given it to him, hovering supportively just at the periphery, rewarded with the occasional genuine smile, the treasured coalescence of the gaze, even the short after-work visit to say hello to the boys. But the space between them hadn't closed of its own volition, and she'd become aware that she would have to be more assertive in making that happen. So, despite the situation, and despite her trepidation, she agreed to the task laid before her by Emily Prentiss.

"I'll talk to him, but I can't guarantee that he'll talk to me."

"Just try, JJ."

* * *

Reid had been glad to put the last of the EMDR sessions behind him. They'd been brutal, from start to finish, as he'd dutifully relived each traumatic aspect of his ordeal, from the moment he'd regained enough sensibility to realize his situation in Mexico, through the news that his entire team had been involved in a serious accident, leaving two of his most treasured friends in mortal danger.

EMDR was designed to alleviate the severity of the symptoms of PTSD, but not the fact of them. It didn't alleviate flashbacks, but simply helped him deal with the physiologic consequences of them. But that only occurred after he'd relived each of those experiences multiple times, desensitizing by increments, using guided eye movements. The reliving might have ultimately taught his heart to remain in rhythm and his breathing to continue at a normal rate and depth, but it had also taken an additional toll on his psyche. It was, he'd been told by Jeff Meadows, the tradeoff for being able to become physiologically stable enough to resume his life.

 _What a victory. I've trained my body not to betray the state of my soul._

There were several particular memories he'd had to revisit more than the rest, the two that had caused his most serious spontaneous flashbacks. He'd relived the death of Luis Delgado so many times that it had become almost a permanent reel of images, running in the back of his mind nearly constantly. It was rivaled only by the memory of the terrible moment he'd found his fellow inmate Malcolm, suffering on the floor of Milburn's laundry room, followed by the moaning and anguished cries from the men on his cell block. That memory was more auditory than visual, providing the soundtrack to Luis' gruesome death.

Thanks to EMDR, he could now hold both memories in his head without passing out, or hyperventilating. But, also thanks to EMDR, he could do nothing _but_ hold them in his head, an ever-present mantra to his daily life. He'd admitted as much to Jeff Meadows, who had encouraged him to work through them with Anna Hayes.

"My job is to make it so you can talk about them, and get through the day in spite of them. Her job is to help you give them an appropriate priority in your life's history. Don't worry too much about it, Spencer. They'll always be there, but they'll fade in prominence. They'll take their rightful place right at the bottom of the list of important events in your life."

Reid had been grateful for Meadows' assistance in his reaching physiologic equilibrium. But he still wasn't at all convinced that the EMDR psychologist's prediction had been accurate. If anything, the troubling memories had risen to a level of prominence that had begun to impact his daily functioning. He was constantly on edge, ready to explode. He _had_ exploded, on several occasions, but had, so far, not directed his ammunition toward anything beyond a failure to follow protocol, or a failure of detail in a report.

 _But it's only a matter of time before I explode at one of them. I can feel it._

Not that he disliked any of them, and not that they deserved his anger. They had only been following orders, he was sure of that. If it had been up to them, they'd have been on his case from start to finish.

 _Wouldn't they have?_

Emily Prentiss had been right in recounting Reid's prowess with cold cases to Mateo Cruz. But her praise had fallen short. Not only had he run the cold cases, but he'd also been looking at the Scratch file, left behind by Stephen Walker. Tangentially….because the early materials were still to be found in the Scratch file….he'd looked at the investigation of his own case.

There had been hints, before. JJ's mentioning that the team was away, when she'd first visited him in prison. Rossi, mentioning that he'd be catching up with the team in the field. Garcia, weepingly bemoaning the fact that the team was struggling through without him. In the file, he'd found a report that Luke Alvez had also sat out the beginning of an away case, taking the time to meet with the warden at Milburn.

He'd known, on some level, that they wouldn't have been able to work his case. He'd known that his own choices had placed him, alone, in Mexico, irresistible bait to a vengeful serial killer bent on causing him pain, even if none of them had yet focused in on the _right_ serial killer. He'd known that the FBI owed him nothing, save a chastisement for failing to follow the rules. All of these things he'd known, but he'd been too stunned at the turn of his life, and too frightened to do anything but reach out, mentally and emotionally, to the people who were his friends.

 _They didn't have a choice. They would have helped me, if only the FBI would have let them._

He repeated those words to himself, each time he felt the unwarranted anger rising. But there was a part of him, an emotional, maybe unreasonable part of him, that wasn't all that certain his anger was unwarranted. Because his review of the Scratch file…and his own….had shown him something.

Once they'd started working the case, _his_ case, really working it…..they'd realized it wasn't Scratch. Once they'd started working the case, it had been only forty-eight hours…..seventy-two, at the outside…before they'd solved it.

 _Three days, and I might have been free._

 _Three days, and Luis wouldn't have been killed just to teach me a lesson._

 _Three days, and I might not have become someone I can't even recognize._

 _Three days!_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 20**_

Reid entered the small outer office of the Innocence Project branch, and laid his messenger bag on a borrowed desk. For much of the past three weeks, his work with IP had been his salvation, his only mental refuge from the thoughts and images that refused to leave his mind. The high stakes of the enterprise ….. the release of an innocent person from the unmerited harshness of prison life …. served as a worthy motivating factor.

 _Not that much of prison life is ever merited, is it?_

He'd been thinking about that a lot lately, about whether prison actually served its purpose. But that always fell back to an internal conversation about what, exactly, its purpose was. Just last week, that conversation had become external as well, after he'd been asked a simple question by Clare, who was just beginning to learn that Spencer Reid was never satisfied with a simple answer.

MC Ryan primarily occupied the inner office of the suite, larger by only a few feet, while the outer office was occupied by an intern. Two interns, technically, though one of them was usually sent over to the main DC facility on the afternoons when Reid was expected.

He'd fallen into the habit of coming after his appointments with Anna Hayes, having put in as full a day as possible with the BAU. Coming after therapy allowed him the leisure of being able to stay as long as he wanted. But it also risked him showing up with the agitation that nearly always resulted from his therapy sessions. He knew Anna was only doing her job, bringing him back through difficult issues. But he'd become worried about the impression he would leave on the IP staff. So he'd started walking a long, indirect route between the two locations, giving himself time to work off some emotional energy.

Jasmine, the intern, greeted him with enthusiasm each time he came. In her final year at Georgetown, she was a bit enamored of the idea of working with an FBI agent, and especially with an agent of the famed Behavioral Analysis Unit. Clare had teased him about it, the last time they'd been alone together in the office.

"She considers you a celebrity, you know."

At first, he'd misunderstood, in light of his most recent appearance in the headlines, as the FBI agent arrested for murder.

"I'm sorry."

Clare had realized the miscommunication immediately.

"Oh, no, Spencer! That's not what I mean. She just considers you to be law enforcement royalty."

He'd shaken his head. "You two confuse me. I've always thought defense lawyers and law enforcement were natural enemies."

Clare had smiled back at him. "Only when we're on opposite sides of a courtroom. At the moment, you're on the _right_ side."

He'd laughed. "As long as I'm on your side, you mean."

"You've got that right."

Reid found her easy to work with, even easy to talk to. She was quick, and bright, and he didn't need to explain every nuance of his thinking to her. He enjoyed conversations where every word didn't need to be said. And, when he was honest with himself, he realized how liberating it was to have a friend who didn't know every single piece of his history.

Not that anyone actually did, of course. Not even JJ, nor Emily. Not even Derek Morgan. But, still, it was different with Clare. The others had known him as one thing, when he'd first joined the BAU, and had witnessed him growing into his current iteration. They had, in fact, grown with him. But, with Clare, he could be the person he'd _become_ , and nothing else. It was something he'd only experienced once before in his life. With Maeve.

Not that he would ever compare the two. It was just that they'd both come to know him in his mature state, and they'd both _liked_ him in his mature state. Maeve had even come to love him. She'd _validated_ him.

The problem was that his current 'mature' state felt anything but. He was aware enough to realize that he was filled with an unreasonable anger, toward life, and circumstance. And toward his friends.

On some level, he _knew_ it was unreasonable. He knew he was missing parts of the argument, that his id was obscuring his logic. He knew all of those things. And still, the anger was there. He couldn't shake it. Some part of him didn't want to.

So the Innocence Project had become an unexpected haven of sorts for him. A place where it wasn't hard for him to be polite, where he didn't have to bite back an irritated retort to a simple question. The Innocence Project had become a haven, because it sheltered him from his friends.

The true irony was that the staff at the IP, having met him essentially because he'd spent time in prison, didn't seem fazed by that fact at all. Because of the work they did, they were well-practiced at dispensing with a person's reputation, and forming relationship with the person himself. He felt no judgment, apart from the adulation of the interns. He felt free.

Clare heard the outer door open and close, and correctly surmised that Spencer had stopped by the office on his way home from his therapy appointment. They'd gotten that far in breaking the ice, that she knew he was in therapy.

She put aside the file she'd been reading, and stepped into the outer office.

"Hi!"

Having just tried to walk off an extra three miles of steam, Reid wasn't quite in the mood to return her perky greeting.

"Hello."

"Uh-oh. Tough session?"

He did his best to shake off his mood.

"They all seem to be. But, what do they say, 'no pain, no gain'?"

Clare smiled at him, with both friendly concern and amusement. It had only been a month or so that she'd known him, but she'd already surmised that Spencer Reid's expansive vocabulary rarely fell back to the use of idiom.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't make it less painful in the moment. I'm sorry for that, Spencer. If it's any consolation, most of the guys….and most of them _have_ been guys….that we've freed have been able to put it behind them. I can't say it was easy for all of them, but they got there."

He appreciated the encouragement, but picked up on one word.

"Most?"

She'd realized her faux pas even as she'd said it, and was chagrined that he'd noticed. So she did her best to cover.

"Yeah, well, I haven't kept in touch with all of them. So I can't say….that's all I meant."

Reid smiled wryly to himself. _Did you forget I'm a profiler?_ But he didn't challenge her.

"All right, well, thanks for the good word. Do you want to review the case files you gave me last week? I've gone through all of them."

She did, and so he joined her in the larger office, carrying the stack under his arm.

The first time he'd reviewed files, Reid had spent more than a week on them, arguing the profile back and forth with himself, mentally creating and calculating a risk-of-error factor based on how deeply the case had been investigated, and even trying to take into account any available information about the convict's history in prison. The latter had been something MJ had encouraged him to do, as an ongoing, and relatively prospective, behavioral history.

Reid pulled his chair next to hers, and started in with the first folder. After the initial exercise, he'd been able to develop a system that allowed him to review them much more quickly…..which was a good thing, because she had identified well over a six hundred files for him to look at.

"Okay, so no DNA, as per usual for these. I'm guessing you wanted me to look at this one because his alibi was pretty convincing."

"To everyone but the jury, obviously."

"And to me. Do you know how easy it is to alter a screen shot?"

"Not really. You think his friend faked it?"

"I think he _might_ have faked it. He could have easily altered the time stamp on it. Not to mention the very fact that he took it. Who takes a screen shot of an email from a friend?"

She conceded. "I guess, for that matter, who even uses email with a friend? Why not just text?"

"Exactly. So, I don't think this will be a good first case for us."

Clare was disappointed. "I'm beginning to think this might not work out at all. Maybe we'll have to stick with DNA."

"We're only twenty-five files into it, Clare. Don't get discouraged. What you're trying to do is a good thing, even if we only find one in six hundred. Even if you only save that one person, won't it be worth it?"

"Me? Or 'we'?"

He was confused, or pretended to be. "What do you mean?"

"Before, you used the word 'us'. You said it wouldn't be a good first case for 'us'. Did you mean that?"

"I…"

"Because I think it would help us tremendously if you'd stay on while we work the case….provided we find one, of course. You have insights that I don't have, and you have ways of looking at things that I could never even imagine!"

Reid felt a little flutter of flattery, and wondered if she meant what she'd said. But she sounded sincere, and her face reflected it, and he was, after all, enjoying working with them. With her. So..

"Um…..well, we'd still have the issue of my having another, full time job. And an unpredictable schedule. But, if I'm not actually replacing someone more reliable, then…..yes, I think I'd like that."

"Great! Now all we need is a case. So, should we get back to them?"

"We can. But I can make it short for you. I didn't find anything promising in any of these. I think I should just start in on another stack. Once I get into a pattern, I'll move through them faster. We'll find one. There's got to be _one_ innocent man in those files."

She looked wistful. "I hope so. Part of me hopes there are more, so we can help them. But that would also mean there are more people suffering unjustly, and I can't exactly wish for that."

He nodded. And then brought up something that had been on his mind for some time now.

"Clare….uh….I…you can say 'no', if it's not appropriate, but…. I was wondering if you could look into a case for me."

"Me? For you?"

He reddened. "Yes. When I was at Milburn, there was another man….someone who was sort of a friend to me…"

 _If you define 'friend' as 'he didn't try to hurt me'._

"We arrived on the prison bus together, and he was afraid, to the point where he was trying to hurt himself. Somehow, he _knew_ he'd be a target. He told me that _he_ was innocent, too. I don't actually even know what he was in for, we never even talked about it, nor even if he was still awaiting trial, as I was. But…well, he was killed in prison. And, if he was innocent, as he said he was, I thought maybe it would help his family…."

Clare knew it was more complex than that. The family had already suffered the loss. Their grief might only be heightened if they were to learn that their loved one had been imprisoned, and thereby endangered and killed, unjustly. But it might bring them some consolation if his reputation could be redeemed. And it might well also bring them compensation. All of those were worthy reasons to look into the case. But what actually moved her to action was the expression on her new friend's face. This case was clearly important to Spencer Reid.

"Say no more. Just give me his name, and the date you arrived at Milburn. I'll request his file. Do you know anything about how he was killed, or by whom?"

They hadn't discussed any of this, none of the specifics of his time in prison. Nor did Reid plan to. But he would tell her this much.

"Yes."


	21. Chapter 21

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 21**_

Another two days passed, along with a number of inquiring looks from Emily, before JJ had a chance to speak with Reid alone. She'd purposely not approached him when anyone else was within earshot, in case he should become angry with her. His struggle to keep his temper in check, as well as his tone of voice, had continued, which was what had prompted yesterday's renewed request from Emily, for JJ to speak with him.

"Maybe _you_ should do it, Em. After all, he doesn't have to talk with me if he doesn't want to. But he wouldn't be able to say 'no' to his boss."

 _And I don't want to fight with my best friend when he's so obviously hurting._

But Emily had turned the task back to JJ. "I know it seems like I'm abdicating my responsibility. I promise you, if I need to, I'll step in. It's just that, when I met with him at the prison, after Lyndsey took his mother….he blew up, JJ. He pounded the table and yelled, and the guard had to bodily remove him."

The blonde profiler misunderstood. "You're not afraid of him, are you? Because, Emily, no matter how angry he is, he would never hurt another human being. Not on purpose. And especially not a friend. He was just emotional because of Diana, and….and everything."

 _Everything. Every single aspect of his life, that had come undone._

Emily nodded. "I know that. I'm just saying that he'll be more likely to hear our concerns from you than from me. I don't want him to get so riled that he can't even process what's being said to him."

As distasteful as it was, it made some sense, so a reluctant JJ agreed to the task, and bided her time until the opportunity presented itself. It had been, apparently, the rare day when he had neither EMDR nor therapy with Anna Hayes, so they were both getting ready to leave at the same time.

"Any plans for tonight?" she asked, as they exited the bullpen into an empty hallway. If things went well, she thought, she could invite him for dinner.

"No."

Much of Reid's conversation with his colleagues had become like this. Only as many words as required, no offering of additional information, no return inquiries. Those among them who'd once been annoyed at their genius' penchant for rambling and the spouting of odd facts had begun to miss both.

JJ cared too much about him to be deterred. So she tried another angle.

"Want to know what I'm doing tonight?"

Praying not to hear another 'no'. Trusting that the bonds of deep friendship would keep him from actively pushing her away, even if he'd inserted a buffer of distance between them. Trusting that he still loved her enough.

He did. Even if it cost him.

"What?"

Still one word, but at least it hadn't ended the conversation. She would take it.

"I'm building a triceratops."

Now he actually turned his head to look at her.

"You're what?"

She smiled, hoping to draw him in. "I'm building a triceratops. Okay, technically, I'm helping Henry build it. But you know how that goes."

He actually did. He'd been drafted' into helping with some of Henry's other school projects.

"With Legos?" His mind already involuntarily working through the pattern.

"I wish. No, I'm told this project involves a lot of clay and toothpicks."

After a moment's hesitation, Reid gave an indulgent half-smile. "Well…..good luck with it."

The elevator came, and they both got on. JJ prayed they would be alone for the whole ride down from the sixth floor. She didn't want to lose whatever momentum their conversation had developed. Such as it was.

"Do…um…do you think I could entice you to help? You're definitely more artistic than I am. And you know everything there is to know about dinosaurs. I have that on good authority."

He'd been staring at their reflection in the metal doors, and now caught her gaze there.

"There are some pretty good pictures in that encyclopedia set I gave the boys. You'll do fine."

She stared at his image. "Spence…."

The movement of his head was barely there, but the message was unmistakable.

 _No_.

They finished their descent in silence, JJ mentally shaking her fist at the heavens.

 _Where were You all this time? The only prayer You answer in months is that we get to ride the elevator alone?!_

After walking in tandem silence past the security station, they exited the building and headed toward the parking lot. JJ spotted Reid's car several rows over from hers, and much farther down.

"Want a ride to the Reid-mobile?"

"No, thanks. I can walk it."

As they approached her SUV, she reached out and gently tugged at his arm.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

He didn't pull away, but he didn't follow her lead, either.

"I don't…."

"Please, Spence. Just for a minute."

He'd feared this would happen, that she would run out of patience, and stop giving him his distance. But he simply wasn't ready yet. He was still trying to convince himself that there would come a time when he _would_ be ready.

"JJ, please, not now. I need time, and I need _space_. Please give it to me."

She looked up at him, uncertain. Clearly, they were already on topic. Should she probe? As a colleague, she felt the weight of the task she'd been assigned by their unit chief. As a friend, she ached for him, and nearly gave in to his request to let it go. But, as someone who loved him, she could do only the one thing.

"I won't push you. I just want to know if you're okay. I mean, I know you're _not_ okay. But….are _we_?"

He hung on to the strap of his messenger bag, currently serving as a physical shield between him and the world. Staring off behind her, he took the time to search for the words that could adequately express the turmoil within. But they eluded him, and he had to make do.

"You're right, I'm not okay. I guess I was supposed to be by now, right? I mean, _everyone_ suffered trauma from the attack by Scratch, but the rest of them are all over it now, aren't they? They're all ready to get back to work, to be a team again."

He'd virtually spat the word 'team'. It didn't take a profiler to realize it as the root of his conflict.

JJ felt the need to tread lightly.

"Spence, no one expects you to be over it. What you went through was different from what we went through."

"Exactly."

He'd just agreed with her, and yet she had the sense that he hadn't agreed at all.

"What does that mean?"

"For me, there was no 'we'. What I went through, I went through alone ….. while the rest of the team carried on with business as usual."

That hurt, even when she'd anticipated it. For her, at least, there had been nothing 'usual' about conducting the business of the BAU while her best friend suffered in prison. Her heart had been broken for the duration.

 _But you carried on, didn't you?_ She chided herself. _Except for that one case, you flew away, and interviewed, and profiled, and detected and arrested, just like you always do. You weren't with him every moment, not even in spirit. He's right._

She told him so. "I'm sorry."

Just two words, laden with a grief that tugged at his heart, in spite of everything. And she had, after all, come to him in prison. She'd _wept_ for him in prison.

"I'm not angry with _you_. I just…." He shook his head, in frustration over not being able to express himself, his genius vocabulary abandoning the task. "Three days, JJ. It only took three days!"

Immediately, he regretted having said it, having put it there, between them, making real the chasm he felt between himself and the rest of the team.

But she wasn't about to leave him standing alone, across the great divide.

"I know."

It validated him, at the same time that it exasperated him.

"But…. _why_? Why did you wait so long?"

She turned away from him, afraid that he would see the frustration in her face, and misread it. When she'd properly assembled her features, she turned back.

"We _didn't_ wait. Stephen was working on Scratch from the time he joined the team, and he kicked it into overdrive after you were arrested. Pen had her bots out there looking for him from the moment we heard from the police in Mexico."

"But it wasn't Scratch."

"Spence, even you thought it was, in the beginning. It had his signature, what with drugging you, and trying to get you to think you'd killed Nadie Ramos."

Something in what she'd just said niggled at him. She could see the furrow of his brow.

"What? What are you thinking?"

Seven seconds more, and he was ready to answer.

"That was it. _That's_ what I should have known. Scratch wouldn't have tried to get me to _think_ I'd killed someone. He would have manipulated me into actually doing it."

"But you _did_ think you'd done it, didn't you? After you did that cognitive with Tara?"

After it had all been over, after he'd been freed, after he'd been exonerated, she'd gotten Tara to tell her about the interview.

He nodded impatiently. "Yes, but not before then! I couldn't think straight in prison. Too much had happened, I was sleep-deprived, and... and..."

And too many other things that he still found hard to name. So he continued without naming them.

"Before that, right after I came down from the drugs, I was _sure_ I hadn't killed anyone. I should have known, right from the beginning, that it wasn't Scratch!"

Unwittingly assuming the responsibility of the faulty investigation. JJ realized, and was torn. Which was worse, that he should blame himself, or that blaming the team would separate him from them? She did her best to find a middle ground.

"Maybe. But would that have led us to Lyndsey?"

None of them, including Reid, had known of the young woman's involvement, until the moment she'd chosen to reveal herself.

"I don't know. But it would have changed the investigation. You could have been looking at my case differently, been more open-minded about it."

He'd just touched on something JJ had concluded as well. If they'd investigated the murder of Nadie Ramos apart from the context of the involvement of someone they cared about …. if they'd looked for similars, if they'd broadened their thinking to look at a pattern of murders on either side of the border …. they'd have had her. They'd have seen the pattern of killings done with a single weapon, and Garcia would have traced that weapon back to Jack Vaughn ….. and they'd have had her.

This hadn't been a failure of friendship. It had been a failure of performance. As a team, they'd assumed the role of the victim's family, and it had clouded every bit of their thinking. But she wasn't about to have Reid own it. Of all of them, he'd been least positioned to think rationally.

"We blew it. All of us. Cat and Lyndsey wanted to lead us down the wrong path, and we were foolish enough to follow them. You're right, Spence. We should have seen it. We should have stepped back, and done our jobs the way we know how to do them."

He felt the growing turmoil within, the thing that wanted to explode, but couldn't, because it was JJ. The thing that loomed just beneath the surface, a landmine waiting to be tripped. Reid stepped back from it. No matter the rest of his circumstance, he was lucid enough not to allow the most tender friendship of his life to be destroyed. But he also knew that, if he wanted to preserve that friendship, he would have to step back from _it_ , too.

"It's too late now. No one can change what happened. I just…. part of me understands that…..I thought it was Scratch too, until Lyndsey took my mother, and I realized….."

 _I realized, and begged for help, and was met with disbelief._ The memory heightened his agitation, even as he tried to explain it to JJ.

"My mind understands what happened. I mean that. I _understand_. But... but the rest of me…." He let go of the messenger bag and ran both hands through his hair in frustration. "…you don't know what it's like. You don't know what it _was_ like… I can't... I just...I'm not the same. And I pray you'll never know what that feels like."

She longed to reach out to him, to comfort him, to tell him that he'd find himself again. But she wasn't sure she believed that herself.

"I know I can't…."

He spoke right over her. "I asked you for space. Will you give it to me?"

Rebuffed, she reddened. But she also saw the desperate plea in his eyes.

 _He doesn't want to hurt me. He doesn't want to hurt any of us, even if we failed him._

In defeat, she acquiesced.

"Yes, all right."

Even as she conceded, she wondered what, exactly, giving him space _meant_. She'd been asked to determine his readiness to work a case with the team. All she'd actually determined was that he was still in there, shrouded in a suffocating layer of anger and frustration. Yet, he'd insisted he could do his job.

 _And he did figure out that we should have known early on that it was Scratch._

None of the rest of them had bothered to conduct a post-mortem on his case, as Reid had, she was sure of that. They'd been too easily distracted by the subsequent attack, also attributed to Scratch.

 _And, who knows, maybe we got that wrong, too._

Ironically, it seemed that Reid might be the most solidly functioning of the team at the moment. And yet, the most brittle. She would tell that to Emily, when she reported in.

' _He's ready. We have work to do, to regain his trust, but we're safe in giving him ours.'_

Despite his plea, Reid was hesitant in turning away. It felt alien to him, leaving her like this, obviously upset, despite her attempt to mask it.

"I'm sorry. But, thank you."

In any other circumstance, they'd have stood together, strong, supporting one another. Now, support meant separation, and each of them felt the pain of it.

JJ blinked back tears that she refused to shed. This was about him, and what he needed. The last thing she would ask would be for him to comfort her. But, as he began to walk away, there was one request she _would_ make.

"Spence…." She called after him, and he turned around. "It's Henry's birthday in a few weeks. He'd be disappointed if you didn't come. Do you think you could….could you find a way?"

After a long moment's hesitation, he gave an nearly imperceptible nod.

"I'll try."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 22**_

Their first away case came less than a week later, taking the team to Detroit. As BAU cases went, it was relatively straightforward, an obsessive male seeking sexual relief from strangling his hired escorts. The discovery of a set of remains had drawn attention to several prior missings, whose cases had not attracted the attention they'd warranted.

 _So what, if they lived life on the streets? Were they less human, because of that? Were their lives so easily dismissed, just because they'd struggled through them?_

Reid pushed pins through the map with more force than was necessary, angry at the unequal application of justice. As a member of the team, he'd consulted on any number of such cases. But the objective distance that had once enabled him, had seemingly abandoned him.

JJ watched, in silence. It seemed that they were working out the meaning of 'giving him space' on a minute-to-minute basis. On the trip out, it had meant him sitting apart, raising his voice to offer his insights from his place at the back of the plane. Last night, at the hotel, it had meant him declining dinner with the team. Today, his only interaction had been with the map.

 _Maybe I should be glad he's not talking to me. Those pins look like they could hurt!_

She'd given her report to Emily, vouching for Reid's ability to work with the team. Although she'd struggled to say the words, she'd also told Emily of his frustration about the investigation of his case.

"I really think you need to speak with him, Em. Yes, he's angry, but he has a right to be, doesn't he? He doesn't understand why we didn't work his case harder. To tell you the truth, I don't understand it either."

Emily Prentiss had been taken aback at that. To have two of her agents….and her _friends_ ….. second-guessing her decisions had rattled the newly-minted unit chief, and she'd wondered if the others were doing the same, if not expressing it as openly.

"Does everyone feel that way?"

"I… I don't know. Emily, I'm not saying what you did was wrong. I'm just asking…. _why_? Why did we leave him in that godforsaken place for so long? Why didn't we drop everything else and work his case, the way we know how? It's what…"

She cut herself off before finishing the sentence, but Emily heard it anyway.

"It's what Hotch would have done. That's what you were going to say, isn't it? JJ, don't you think I know that? Don't you think I wanted to?"

"But… _why_ , then?"

"Because I couldn't. We were under scrutiny, you must have known that. We still are. Hotch was being watched for a long time, surely you, of all people know that. You were with him and the boys when he was taken into custody. Did you really think that was entirely a mistake?"

"It _was_ a mistake. It…."

"No, JJ, it wasn't. Hotch had…. _has_ …. enemies, both in the Bureau and elsewhere. There's no shortage of people who wanted him to fail, some because he showed them up, and others because they were afraid he would one day be in a position of authority over them. Those people are still out there. What better way to make sure he's gone for good, than to have _me_ fail? He _chose_ me. If I fail, it reflects on him."

It was starting to make some tortured sense to JJ.

"And interrupting the BAU's work to help a drugged-up agent….a _rogue_ agent, technically…..who'd been accused of murder would have fed right into their agenda. Okay, I get that. But why couldn't _some_ of us have worked Spence's case? We've split the team before, when we had to."

Emily shook her head. "It would still have fed the beast. And I'll remind you that some of us _were_ working it. Garcia was searching for signs of Scratch, and Stephen was rehashing everything we knew about him. It wasn't that, JJ. It was that we messed up, by assuming it was Scratch. To be honest, if it had been an official BAU case, I would have had to fire me for that. I screwed up, royally, by making an assumption."

JJ's smile was sad, hearing her two friends virtually echo one another. "That's pretty much what Spence said."

Emily was paradoxically encouraged. "He did? He thinks we messed up, and not that we ignored him?"

"He thinks _he_ messed up. _He_ owned it."

"But…..it wasn't his responsibility."

"Yeah, well, to Spence, it looked like it wasn't _anybody's_ responsibility, so he took it on. But he went down the same path all the rest of us did, until Lyndsey Vaughn showed up with his mother."

Emily could only heave a great sigh, as she shook her head. "Fools. We had to be handed the case by our unsub."

"Lyndsey Vaughn and Cat Adams are hitwomen. For them, the rush doesn't come so much from the killing as it does from the knowledge that they got away with it. They _needed_ us to be looking for them. Scratch doesn't."

Emily conceded the point. "You're right. But we need to look for Scratch. And I, for one, am glad that Reid is putting fresh eyes to it." After a moment's pause, she continued. "So, you think I should talk to him?"

At one point, JJ had feared that such a conversation might lead to an explosion. But she'd now heard each of them assume blame for the same thing. And she was _fairly_ certain Spence was still empathetic enough to understand why Emily had handled things as she had. But, mostly, she fell back to her awareness of the deep friendship the two had shared for so many years. She knew, from personal experience, the tensile strength of those bonds.

"Yes."

* * *

Judging from Reid's attack on the map, JJ assumed the conversation hadn't taken place yet. Or maybe it had.

 _Uh-oh._

But a quick mental inventory of the time that had elapsed since her own discussion with Emily told her that there hadn't been an opportunity.

 _So maybe there's still hope._

Unaware that he was being observed, Reid stuck a final pin through the paper, and then stood back to take in the pattern.

"See anything?"

He startled at her voice, despite that fact that he'd probably heard her say precisely those words at least a thousand times in the past. He felt so isolated from the others, it seemed like he was working the case alone. He'd forgotten she was there.

He recovered as he stroked his chin, a gesture so familiar to her that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. Normalcy so nearly within reach, and yet remaining unreachable.

Reid studied the map for a long moment, and then arced his hand into a circle, indicating one side of the map. They'd identified several more remains, and matched them to several of the missings.

"All of the dump sites are in this area here," indicating a thickly wooded stretch behind a strip mall. "And the last known location of each of those who disappeared seems to be about the same radius away, if we look at this as an interrupted circle."

She hadn't seen it before, but now that he mentioned it...

"It just looked like a cluster to me, but you're right, it might be an arc. So, you think this is his comfort zone?"

"I think it's his _convenience_ zone. Look at this one." Pointing to the location from which one more person had gone missing. It was considerably distant from the others, and completely outside the imagined circle.

"Was that one dumped in the same place?"

"Uh-huh."

"Which one, in sequence?"

"Second to last."

JJ pondered that for a moment. "You think that one was the original target, right?"

He shrugged. "It makes sense. He deflected in his convenience zone until he was ready to kill the person he really wanted to kill. Then he took one more, as a forensic countermeasure."

"To make us think it was just one in an ongoing series. Ugh. As much as I know it's our job to get into these guys' heads, I still can't imagine taking another human life just to cover up a prior murder. I mean, I get passion. I get compulsion. But I don't get tossing someone away as an incidental cost of doing business, like they're an object and not a human being."

She didn't realize how close to home she'd hit until she turned and took in the look on his face.

"Oh….oh, God. You felt that way? Spence…"

He shook her off. "Let's just focus on the case, all right?"

Moments like this raised her ire against Cat Adams, and Lyndsey Vaughn, and the guards at Milburn, and the justice system, and life, and…..everything. But she had to swallow it, because he needed her to.

"All right. I'm sorry." _For everything, and everyone._ "So, we should have Garcia focus in on that victim. Our unsub has to be someone she knows."

"Or has done business with." Even the targeted victim had been an escort.

JJ made the call to Garcia, and then went to find Emily, to share the breakthrough. Once she was gone, Reid sank into a chair, emotionally exhausted even from the tangential reference to his experience.

 _Maybe I really can't do this._

* * *

For Emily Prentiss, once a thing was decided, it was decided. So she wasted no time in calling Reid to her office once they'd returned from Detroit. She lifted her head to the gentle knock on her open door.

"You wanted to see me." A statement, not a question, treating it as a summons, and not an invitation.

She put down her pen and made her way around the desk. "Come in. And please close the door."

He did as instructed, remaining standing, his hands held rigidly at his sides. His body language told her to dispense with the niceties, and get to the point. So she did.

"You're angry with me."

He said nothing. It hadn't been a question, it didn't require a response.

She realized her mistake, and tried again. "Are you angry only with me, or are you angry with the team?"

This question was loaded, and he wasn't about to get trapped in it. So he denied.

"I'm not angry."

She gave him an Emily look. "Reid."

"I'm not. I'm…."

"Well, if you're not, you should be. I screwed up. I screwed _everything_ up. And it's my fault you were left in Milburn for all that time."

They both knew the truth of it, even as they both realized the manipulation in it. She'd plead guilty, and it was up to him whether the sentence would be harsh, or merciful. But Spencer Reid had matured in the time she'd known him, and he wasn't so easily manipulated.

"Why?"

 _Why_. Not 'yes', or 'no', or 'I forgive you'. _Why_. Accepting, she noticed, her ownership of the blame.

She would have to explain herself. She would have to acknowledge what had been done, or not, to save him. What had been expressed as concern, or not, about his return to the team. What confidence she still held in him, or not. And how angry she was with him, about having put himself into the position of _needing_ to be saved. Or not.

Emily stared at him for a long moment, then moved her eyes to the window for an even longer period of time. And then she looked back to her friend. Her once young, brilliant, nerdy, needy, emotionally-complex friend.

"I'm telling you, because I'm bad at my job. If I were _good_ at my job, I would know enough to keep my mouth shut, and let you work it out on your own. But …. Reid…..Spencer…I'm sorry. I am genuinely, truly, sorry."

Her eyes glistened, and he was reminded of the tears they'd both shed on the day she'd come to tell him about the plea deal. How she'd held him, and tried to assure him, even as she'd spoken words of practicality to him.

He couldn't bring himself to speak. Weeks of therapy had brought him to a better place than he'd been in before, but they'd also left him in a perpetual state of raw emotion. Emotions, plural. Several vied for prominence just now, and he could do nothing but stay in place and do his best to withstand the barrage.

Emily didn't quite understand what was going on with him. "Reid?"

For just a split second, his eyes offered a haunting reminder of the lonely, lost boy-man he'd been when she'd first met him. Even before she'd had time to process the thought, her body reacted, and she moved to him, and put her arms around him.

He stiffened, holding the pose as the battle raged within. And then her embrace softened him, and he relaxed into her arms.

"I'm so sorry. I can try to explain, if you want to hear it. But I never forgot about you, not for an instant."

He didn't doubt her words. But he needed more. After a few seconds, he extracted himself from her grasp.

"I'll listen."

He'd caught her off guard. She'd expected him to dismiss the need to explain, expected to be forgiven, and absolved. But this _wasn't_ the Spencer Reid she'd known for so long. This was the Spencer Reid who'd been to prison, and back. Who'd been to hell….

 _And he's trying so desperately to come back from it. All right, then. If you can stand up to it, so can I._

She told him, as she'd told JJ. Her insecurity in her position. The lack of support from the Bureau. Her self-assessed failure to find the right way to help him, her failure to lead the team in the right direction on his case. Her sorrow at having failed him.

"I hope you can find a way to forgive me. _Me_ , personally. And as your unit chief, I hope you can find a way to work with me again. But, if you can't, I'll understand."

They both knew it would only serve as more punishment for him, if he couldn't reintegrate with the team. It would mean leaving the work he valued, and his remaining friends. Because, as apologetic as Emily Prentiss might be, _she_ wasn't offering to leave the team in order to bring him back.

He considered his words carefully.

"I can work with the team. I think I've demonstrated that these past few days. And I'd like…"

But maintaining formality proved to be too great an effort.

"Emily…. I appreciate what you've said. And I accept your apology. It's just ...I _do_ understand what you've told me. Here." Tapping his temple. "But I need you to give me space. I understand….but I can't feel it. Not yet. There's too much…. too much for me to sort through. Too much….. I don't have control of it. I'll get there, or so they tell me. But, for now….. can you just let me do my job? Don't expect anything of me, as a friend, or….whatever. Just let me work. I know I can do _that_."

Reid wasn't the only one dealing with conflicting emotions. Emily was relieved at having finally addressed what was between them, and he'd given her the hope of reconciliation at some point in the weeks or months ahead. But he'd also just told her he was still in emotional turmoil. Was he really fit to work? Should she prolong his leave? But that would render him without his support system for however long it lasted. She felt nearly as torn as she had when he'd first been sent to prison.

That time, she'd asked herself what Aaron Hotchner would do...and made a mess of it. She'd learned the hard way that heroes were to be admired, but not necessarily imitated. _Only Hotch does 'Hotch' well._ This time, she would make her decision as Emily Prentiss, who knew that emotions were things to be managed, not suppressed.

"All right. I believe in you. And I also trust you….which means that I'm going to trust that you'll tell me if this changes. If you feel like you shouldn't be in the field, if you lose confidence in the support of your team, or that you can support them…..I trust that you'll tell me. Can we agree on that?"

He locked his gaze with hers. "We can."

Emily heaved a huge sigh. It all still felt so unresolved. But the words had been said, and she had to honor them.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Are we through?"

She nodded, for she could do nothing else. When he'd gone, her mind expressed what her lips could not.

 _I hope not._


	23. Chapter 23

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 23**_

As he made his way to the Innocence Project branch office, something began to make sense to Reid.

 _I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised at how relieved I was to get back from Detroit. It's so much easier working with people who have no expectations of me._

Increasingly, he'd come to think of the Project as a respite, and the branch's few staff members as a support system. Clare, in particular, seemed always willing to lend a ready ear….not that he'd shared all that much with her. What she knew of his time in prison was only what she'd gleaned from the headline story at the time, and the all-but-buried story of his release. For the rest, she'd had to read between the lines.

Considering the work she did, she was expert at it. She knew he'd been traumatized, if not exactly how. And she was all too familiar with what such trauma could do to a person's psyche. So she made a point of letting him know that she was always ready to listen, should he desire to talk. It was what she'd done with each of her clients. But he _wasn't_ a client, he hadn't needed her to set him free. They were on much move level footing, the two of them. Except that he always seemed about to lose his.

"Hey, you're back!" She greeted him. "Did you….." Stopping short, not knowing how to end the question.

"Did I what?"

"I just realized that I don't know exactly what you do. Or what constitutes success, I guess. I mean, I know you analyze information to create a psychological profile of the person who committed the crime. But…is that it? Or do you also catch the bad guys?"

He smiled. "A little of each. Sometimes all we _can_ do is deliver a profile, especially for cold cases. But, when someone is actively killing, we usually stick around to apply what we know right up until they're apprehended."

"And this time?"

"This time, we did both." Not mentioning his role in the process, although his recognition of the pattern on the map had been a breakthrough. He was still too caught up in his conversation with Emily to enjoy his success.

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to say anything, considering the relative newness of their relationship. But only for a moment.

 _After all, I've got a reputation to uphold. When have I ever held my tongue?_

So she offered an observation. "You don't seem very happy about it."

Caught off guard, he tried to shrug it off. "People died. Nothing to be happy about."

"But you kept the killer from doing it again. Isn't that a good thing?"

"Of course it is."

"Then why…. you know what, never mind. It's none of my business."

He agreed with her, yet was somehow sorry that he hadn't acknowledged her accurate reading of his mood. Before he could do anything about it, she changed the subject.

"So…. I'm sorry to bring this up when you're already troubled, but I have some news."

His eyes narrowed in curiosity.

"Yes, well….. I looked into your friend Luis Delgado's case."

She hadn't said whether the news was good or bad, but the implication was there. Reid steeled himself for disappointment.

"And?"

"The news is …. well, it's not good. But it's not all bad, either."

Impatient now. "Clare, just tell me...what did you find out?"

She took a few sheets of paper from her desk and held them out for him. Reid scanned the information quickly, as she summarized.

"He had a record going back to age twelve. Oldest kid of six, single parent household, depressed part of the city, probably trying to help his mom make ends meet, but we can only surmise, because all of the juvenile stuff is still sealed. Then he came of age, and the trouble continued, but nothing big. There were a string of arrests, mostly for dealing, some for petty theft. Then he graduated to stealing cars."

"None of that should have landed him in a federal prison."

"You're right. But things changed when he stole a car with a baby in the back seat. He pulled over as soon as he realized, which was when he was arrested….for kidnapping. _That_ was the federal charge."

Reid sank into a chair. "He didn't belong there. When he said he was innocent, he meant it. He hadn't meant to kidnap a child, his pulling over made that obvious. Even if he committed those other crimes, he was no different from a lot of kids growing up poor. He wasn't a bad person. He just made a mistake."

"A mistake that cost him his life."

Reid could only shake his head. "He knew. When we were on the bus headed to Milburn, he started banging his head against the window, and I told him he would give himself a concussion if he didn't stop. He said it was nothing, compared to what the others would do to him. He knew he'd be a target."

She nodded. "Some people just seem to wear one on their backs, don't they?"

Not realizing she was speaking to someone who'd spent a childhood that way.

"I should never have spoken to him."

"What?"

"If I'd just minded my own business, if I'd just left him alone, he might still be alive."

Clare perched herself on the desk nearest his chair.

"Spencer, I don't understand. What does that mean?"

It was as if he suddenly realized he'd said too much. Reid shook it off, physically and verbally.

"Nothing. It doesn't mean anything. Forget I said it."

But she wasn't having it. He might not be her client, and it might not be any of her business, but she was Mary Clare Ryan, and she wasn't raised to ignore someone who was so clearly hurting.

She reached down to lay a hand on his arm.

"Spencer, please. I want to respect your privacy. But you are obviously troubled, and…..well, I thought we'd become friends. Won't you let me help you?"

Mixed feelings rendered him mute. He wanted to unburden himself. He _needed_ to unburden himself. But….

He was surprised when he realized the 'but'. 'But' he cared what she thought of him. MC, Jasmine, the others….they were his opportunity to start with a relatively clean slate. Not to be seen as needy, and weak. He'd been brought on to the Project for his skills, for his strengths. The last thing he wanted was to present them with his failures.

There was another 'but'. 'But', one of his most prominent shortcomings was his propensity for going it alone. It was a minor miracle that he'd made the deep friendships he had with his teammates, and a major miracle that he'd gotten as close as he had with JJ and the boys. The wisdom gained through those relationships prodded him now. He could almost hear JJ's voice in his ear.

 _Don't walk away from kindness, Spence._

And so, he relented. He told Clare about his unexpected benefactor in prison, who'd eventually turned out to be his nemesis. And he told her about how Luis had been killed, in his presence, presumably to send a message to him. But he withheld the reason for the message, and what had happened afterward. It wasn't weakness he feared showing in those things, but the decomposition of his core.

Unaware, Clare offered her own insight.

"He knew he could hurt you more by hurting someone you cared about. I'm guessing you would have preferred to take a beating yourself, right?" Then, reading the look on his face, she added, "Oh, my God, you were, weren't you? Spencer, I'm so sorry."

So much for not looking weak. She'd just surmised that he'd been victimized on two levels. He tried to dismiss it.

"It's over. That's all that matters. Except for Luis. Are you saying there's nothing we can do? No solace for his family? No justice?"

Realizing that he hadn't reached out to the family himself.

"Oh, no, I'm not saying that at all! We've got grounds to sue for wrongful death, failure to protect, and a few other things. I'm also pretty sure the kidnapping charge would have been dropped, so we might have something about him having been held in federal prison for so long without a trial. That can go for you, too, if you want."

Reid quickly declined. "The sooner I can put that time behind me, the better. But I'm guessing I would have to be a witness for Luis?"

"Probably. Are you okay with that?"

 _No._

"I'll do whatever I need to, as long as we can help them. It's what Luis was trying to do. The least I can do is to finish it for him."

"All right. I've actually already asked a friend at Legal Aid to get started on it. She'll contact his family."

"Should _I_ do that?"

She squinted at him. "Are you up to it?"

His features assembled into an increasingly familiar visage of self-mocking.

"No. But it's the least I can do, isn't it?"

"It's not necessary, Spencer. Janet can do it."

"No, I will. I have to face my guilt some time."

She'd seen this before, in good men wrongfully imprisoned. It was an understandable response, but it wasn't healthy.

"You don't bear any guilt over Luis' death. You didn't kill him. And you had no control over the people who did."

"I had control over _me_. And I miscalculated my enemy."

"Because you're a good man, Spencer. You don't think like a criminal, even if you've spent years trying to get into their minds. Your sense of morality is far better developed than theirs. You could _not_ have prevented this death."

When he remained silent, she added, "You know, there's a quote I have hanging up over my desk at home. It's kind of my mantra, my reason for doing this work in the first place. It says, "To bear with patience wrongs done to oneself is a mark of perfection, but to bear with patience wrongs done to someone else is a mark of imperfection, and even of sin."

He perked up at that. "That's Aquinas."

Brows up. "You know Aquinas?"

"I have a degree in philosophy."

"Ah, I took you for the 'science type'. My bad."

"You're not wrong. I also have degrees….PhDs, actually….in Math, Chemistry and Engineering."

Her brows went even higher. "I don't remember reading about _that."_

"It wasn't pertinent to the subject matter."

"Yeah, well. Wow. Three PhDs….and a degree in philosophy?"

"I'm working on one in theology now, and I'm thinking anthropology might be up next."

"Pretty eclectic mix there. Now I know why they call you 'Doctor Reid'."

"You're pretty well-rounded yourself, choosing Thomas Aquinas as a mentor."

"Are you kidding? I told you, they call me MC because Mary Clare sounded too nun-like, especially when I was in a school run by nuns. I come by Aquinas honestly."

"Catholic school?"

"Through law school. Fordham. I left the nuns behind, but the Jesuits got hold of me."

He smiled. "From what I hear, that's not a bad thing."

"No, it's not. If not for them, and my dad, and…well, and Aquinas….I probably wouldn't be doing this work. And I can't even conceive of doing anything else."

His smile widened. "I, for one, am glad of that. And I'm willing to bet there are a lot of other people who feel the same way."

She looked at him pointedly. "I could say the same about you, you know. You've done a tremendous amount of good in this world, and you've got so much more you can do. Don't let what happened to you get in the way of that. There's someone out there counting on Spencer Reid to save the day. Please be there for them."

He filled at that, completely unexpectedly. All he could do was to nod. She was right. He had to get past this.

He had work to do.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 24**_

Despite the exchange with Clare, Reid's meeting with Emily still lay heavily on his mind. Part of him knew he would eventually have to forgive her, if they were to continue to be in one another's lives, even if they differed on how much there was to forgive.

 _It's what I do, isn't it? I'm Spencer Reid, forgiver of all ills._

But he wasn't feeling himself these days, which was all that really mattered. Because while it might be true that Spencer Reid had become a master-forgiver, it was also true that it wasn't quite the same Spencer Reid directing his life at the moment. The person in charge right now still boiled inside, the fire of anger still smoldering. He was only grateful that he'd managed to keep it from fanning into full flame.

He'd had to forgive her once before, just as he had JJ. Just as he had Hotch. And Morgan. And Rossi. And, above all, Gideon. Under the tender guidance of Anna Hayes, he'd even put himself through the painful exercise of forgiving the wretched soul who'd taken the love of his life away from him.

His sessions with Anna had tapered, but not ceased. Noting a lack of continued progress, she'd deemed it time to take a break, encouraging him to put to use the techniques he'd learned to diminish the physiologic reactivity of his PTSD. She'd left the door open for his return, at any time, anticipating that there was much more to work through. But they'd hit an invisible wall, and experience had told her to let it spend some time disintegrating before trying to pull it down completely.

Reid couldn't quite articulate what it was that was hindering him, but he sensed it, too, a stumbling block that remained firmly fixed in place. His resentment of his teammates was clearly a part of the obstacle, but he sensed that it wasn't the whole of it. But, if he could find it in himself to forgive them, maybe he could uncover what remained beneath the surface. Maybe Anna could help him with that.

Before addressing his own needs, though, there was another, more pressing one that needed attention. He'd told Clare that he would contact the family of Luis Delgado. As difficult as he expected it to be, at least he would be offering them some help. Clare had provided him with a number, which he now drew out of his pocket. Hesitant fingers tapped out the digits on his phone. It was answered almost immediately.

"Hola?" A female voice.

"Uh….hello?"

A quick switch to English on the other end of the call.

"Hello, who is this?"

"My name is Spencer Reid. I … I'm looking for the family of Luis Delgado."

A very slight gasp, followed by a harsh, "Why? What do you want?"

Suspicious and anxious at the same time.

"I knew Luis. We were….friends, in….uh….at a place called Milburn."

Wanting to establish that he was speaking to the right person before mentioning the word 'prison'.

He could almost hear her bravado deflate. "Luis was my son."

Reid's eyes closed in renewed sorrow. When he found his voice again, he responded to her.

"Mrs. Delgado, I'm so sorry for your loss."

A muffled sob met those words, and he continued without waiting for her to speak.

"I was with Luis….when he …..when he died."

She seemed to take a few moments to process that.

"Were you hurt, too?"

A question seemingly so simple, and yet so extraordinarily complex. All he could think to say was, "Not that day."

"You couldn't stop them? You couldn't help mi hijo? Did you try to help him?"

His voice shook as he responded to the despair in hers.

"It was very fast. I didn't know, and….but….but, yes, I tried to help him. But I couldn't. I _couldn't_. I'm so sorry."

Maybe she heard the anguish in his tone. Maybe she heard the relative youth. For whatever reason, her maternal instincts entered the conversation.

"But you tried? Thank you! My boy wasn't alone, then? My Luis didn't die alone? Oh, bless you, bless you! Gracias a Dios!"

Before he realized what was happening, he was back there. Right back there, in the laundry room, ineffectively trying to staunch the flow of blood from Luis' neck. His breaths came in rapid succession, too shallow to accomplish their purpose, and he felt himself getting lightheaded. Miraculously, he held on to the phone as he sank to the floor. It was only the distant shouting of his name coming through the device that brought him back.

"Senor Reid! Senor Reid!"

Gradually, the distance lessened, and the voice brought him back into his living room. Still, it was probably nearly a full minute before he picked up the phone to respond.

"I'm here. Sorry, I don't…."

"Senor Reid, are you all right?"

He simply sat there, phone in hand, and shook his head.

 _No._

* * *

He startled to the sound of knocking on his door, insistent enough to have been going on for a while. It had finally penetrated the fog of misery and despair that had descended upon him after the flashback. He'd thought they were behind him, but they were obviously not.

A quick glance at the wall clock told him it was after ten, unusually late for a visitor. Actually the very fact of a visitor was unusual for Reid. He thought it best to peek through the spyhole before opening the door.

 _Oh. Ohhhh_.

He'd thought he was together enough to call her. Obviously he hadn't been, and she'd picked up on it. Resigned, he opened the door.

"Spencer, are you all right?"

Clare didn't wait for an invitation to enter. She breezed past him, and then turned around to look him up and down.

" _Are_ you? You sounded…"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry if I worried you. I just didn't want to upset Mrs. Delgado, and I thought it would be best if _you_ told her what you'd come up with."

"Why would you think you'd upset her?"

He could feel the room closing in already, and made a conscious effort to employ the tools he'd learned in EMDR. He'd been caught too unaware to use them during the phone call.

"Spencer?" She took in the rapid breathing, and his refusal of eye contact, and began to realize what was happening. She'd seen it before, with some of her IP clients.

Clare guided him by the elbow back to the sofa.

"Sit down. Take deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Keep it up, keep breathing. In, out." She rose, heading towards his kitchen. "You have anything to drink here?" Opening cabinets, considering, shaking her head, moving on, settling on a box of herbal tea. She put water in the kettle and set it to boil on the stove, returning to check on him as she waited.

"In, out, in, out. That's it. Now, can you do one more thing? Can you look at me, please?"

He could.

"Okay. Stay with me now. Stay _here_. Okay?"

He nodded, still following the prescribed method of breathing.

"Listen, I'm sorry. Obviously this triggered something, and I should have thought that it might. Even if I don't really know any details about what you experienced in prison, I've been doing this long enough that I should have been more careful about it. I shouldn't have had you call his mother. I spoke with her afterward, and she's glad to know you're all right. And I gave her the basics on what we might be able to do for her. She was grateful. She wanted me to make sure to tell you that."

The diaphragmatic breathing had done its work, and he could feel his pulse coming back into normal range. His thoughts were no longer racing, and he found himself fully returned to his present circumstance.

"Thanks. Thank you."

She gave him a quick grin, and went to answer the whistling kettle. She returned a minute later, two steaming mugs in hand. Clare handed one to Reid.

"Chamomile. I was kind of surprised. I figured you as a caffeine guy."

He smiled as he took the mug. "Thanks. And I am. But one of my friends gave me a basket of teas one time, and…well, it's still here."

"Ah. Too polite to dump it."

"She meant well. It was the least I could do." Garcia had actually sent _seven_ baskets. And there were a lot of 'meant well' products still in his cupboards.

Clare leaned back against the arm of the sofa. "So, do you want to talk?"

Reid was surprised to be torn about it. He'd developed a friendship with Clare, but he wasn't in the habit of deep sharing with anyone but his best friend. And he'd still been holding on to the idea that he could be a new person, with this new group of friends and colleagues, in this new enterprise.

 _So much for that. Maybe there really isn't any such thing as a fresh start._

He'd frightened himself with his reaction to speaking with Luis' mother, and remembering Luis' murder. He'd thought the worst was behind him, even if his progress had become stagnant, and yet, there it was, looming over him, as imposing as it had been that very first time. He needed to talk it out with someone, he knew that. He'd almost called JJ, but the awkwardness of their situation had stayed his hand. He'd only called Clare because he'd so badly botched the call with Mrs. Delgado.

She misread his hesitation.

"I'm being too pushy, right? Sorry, I'm told it's a bad habit. It's just that I don't like to see people I care about suffering, and sometimes I …"

He put up a hand to stop her. "You're not being pushy. I just… it's hard to talk about. And I hate being weak."

She'd heard this before, too, and was ready for him.

"Spencer, you're hardly weak. You were wrongfully imprisoned. You…I don't know what it was, but it's clear that you had some kind of trauma in there, even more than the knowledge of being innocent…and now I understand that it must have something to do with your friend. Yet your sense of honor made you want to handle contacting his family. That's not weak, my friend. That's steel."

When he had no comeback to that, she continued.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk. I _am_ being pushy. I like to think that we've become friends, but the truth is that we haven't known each other all that long. I just don't like to see anyone suffering….and you are."

His gaze deflected downward. "I'm getting help. It's just…. I thought I'd moved past this part. Now I don't know if I've been making any progress at all."

Clare had long ago discovered the use of silence. It had become a valuable tool in interviews with her clients, as they'd been drawn to fill the empty space with their own words. She'd even put it to use with her friends, as she did now.

Spencer Reid was used to silence, comfortable with it, accustomed to living in his mind. For Reid, the silence between them didn't need to be filled. He took it as a gift, meant to give him time to begin sorting through the jumbled mess of thought playing pinball inside his skull.

She watched him for a few minutes, then diverted her gaze to the window. This time, it was Mary Clare Ryan who broke the silence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? The city lightscape? I can just make out the Monument way in the distance, there." Pointing. "It looks so small, from so far away."

He appreciated the diversion. "Distance changes your perspective."

Hearing his own words, he realized she hadn't been diverting the conversation at all.

"I know. I need to let more time pass. I'm too close to it. But…. it just feels like it's not going to _let_ me get past it. It's going to stay close, and creep up on me when I least expect it." He paused. "How do I fight that?"

Clare put her mug on the table between them. "I'm not an expert on this, not by any means. I'm just going by what I've seen of other people going through it. But….. I think it's a little like grief, isn't it? I mean, I know the flashbacks are difficult, they're almost physical…"

"They _are_ physical."

She acknowledged her mistake. "You're right, they are. I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be presuming to tell you what you're going through. It's just….. I _do_ know grief. And I see some of that in you. You're grieving your friend, and you're grieving yourself. The person you were before this. The life you had, the one you think you can never go back to. It's all grief."

The idea resonated with him, and intrigued him….and he could feel one of his tangled emotions fall out from the others, and settle into place. Reid had become well-acquainted with grief. He greeted it now, as one does an old friend from a bad time.

"I'm listening."

A small, sad smile thinned her lips.

"I don't have a lot more than that. Just that it's the great equalizer, and it's inevitable. You can't run from it, you can't fight it….you just have to go through it. You just have to let it become a part of you, and find a way to integrate it with the rest. What you d _on't_ do, is let it define you. Because there was a 'you' before it, and there will be a 'you' after it. Different, maybe, but you still are the person you were before. You're just also a person who knows how tenuous everything is."

"Like it could be taken away from you in an instant, without warning." Reid didn't even realize he'd said it aloud.

"Exactly. Some people become resentful, because of that. Others simply let go, as a means of self-protection. You know, like, 'if nothing matters to me, then I won't miss it when it's gone'. And other people learn to hold what they _do_ have as precious, for as long as they have it."

"You're one of those, aren't you? You obviously haven't given up caring about people."

She smiled. "No, I haven't. But I had to get there. It was a process."

He realized he didn't know. "Who did you lose?"

He could see her eyes gazing into her past. "I don't remember if I already told you, but I lost my dad not too long after I graduated law school. He died of a heart attack, way too young. You always know you'll probably lose your parents one day, and then you try not to think about it, right? And then, there it is, when you least expect it. So, there was that. It was hard. But it wasn't my first time."

His raised brows asked the question.

"My third year of college, my best friend got sick. Jenna. Some 'usually treatable' form of lymphoma, but it wasn't treatable in her. She was only sick for eight months before she died. I was completely lost without her. She was like a sister to me, we told each other everything. I could be 'me' with her, you know? No judgment, no worrying about what kind of impression I might leave. And, suddenly, when I most needed her, she was gone."

It was Reid's turn to use silence, until Clare embarrassedly filled it.

"Listen to me, I came over to see if you were all right, and now I'm dumping my woeful life history on you."

He smiled. "Hardly. And hardly woeful. You've made your life count for something, both your dad and your friend would be proud of that. You should be, too."

She blushed. "Thanks for that. I just…. it was hard for me, Spencer. And I know it's not the same thing you're dealing with, not by a long shot. But there's something at the root of it that's the same. Something about who we are, and how we see the world, and what we do with the things that happen to us."

He seemed to go introspective for a moment, smiling to himself.

"You sound a lot like my best friend. I have a feeling you two would get along pretty well."

"Have you talked it through with him?"

"Her. JJ. She did her best to stand by me through the whole thing, but there was only so much she could do. We've talked a lot, but…. she was traumatized too, in her own way, by not being able to help me … and I don't want to make it worse for her. So, there's a limit, if you know what I mean."

Clare was curious. She'd gotten the sense that he was single, but they'd never actually discussed it.

"Is she….are you two….together?"

It was his turn to blush. "No, we're not a couple. We've just worked together for a long time, and been through a lot together, and….I guess we've kind of bonded. We love each other, but it's not like that. I've never had a sibling, so I don't know if she's like a sister. But I _am_ the godfather to her sons."

Clare nodded. "And you're protecting her from knowing everything that happened to you in prison."

He mentally corrected her. _I'm protecting her from knowing everything that happened in prison, period._

"I hurt her enough, by putting myself in a position to be compromised. I don't need to do it again."

Clare's research into Spencer Reid had been limited to what she'd read in the news, and she didn't quite understand the use of the word 'compromised'.

"Well, here's an offer. If you want to talk it through with someone, I'm here. Now, later, any time. I won't stand in judgment, I won't be shocked, I won't be hurt. I'll just listen. Sometimes it helps to have to put things into words. Forces all those thoughts into some kind of order in your head."

His eyes widened at her last sentence. It was almost as if she couldl read his mind, such as it was at the moment. And yet…

"I just… working with you….with everyone at the Project….it felt like a chance to start over, with a fresh slate. No preconceived notions, no pathetic history, no expectations…well, apart from me being able to help you, that is. But now…."

Clare chuckled as she stood up from the sofa. "Tell me, does your best friend ever tell you you're exasperating?"

"What…..why?"

"Because, Spencer, I've already told you. What happens to you becomes a part of you. It makes you who you are. So, whatever it is that you don't want to talk about….it's already there. I've already met it. And, surprise of surprises….. I like you, whether because of it or in spite of it, who knows? So, you may not have come with a pedigree, but you came as the Spencer Reid who'd just been through a horrific experience, and lived to not tell the tale. There _is_ no such thing as a clean slate."

Another sentence she'd uttered, any number of times, to her IP clients.

She shouldered her purse, preparing to leave.

"The offer still stands. Any time."

He was tempted. Sorely. He needed to unburden himself, and, as he was surprised to realize, he needed for it not to stand between himself and Clare. But he couldn't. He _couldn't_. Not tonight.

"Thank you. I… thank you. Maybe, one day."

She gave him a sad smile. "I won't push you. I'm just a listening ear, whenever you need one. And don't worry about the Delgados. I'll handle getting them to Janet at Legal Aid. They'll be fine."

He walked her to the door, where she turned and looked up at him once again. The warmth in her eyes was real, and inviting, and he wished he could give himself over to it. He wished he could divulge himself to her. But all he could offer her tonight was gratitude.

"Thanks again….for everything. I'm … I'm glad you came over."

"So am I. See you tomorrow?"

"If we don't get called away."

 _Please don't let us get called away._


	25. Chapter 25

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 25**_

But they _were_ called away, as Reid should have expected they would be, given his track record with the Almighty. They were gone for most of the week, working a high profile case. Rossi groused about it on the way back.

"I prefer my unsubs…..and their victims, for that matter….to come with a little less celebrity."

Emily teased him. "You're just jealous….you like to be the most famous person in any room."

"Thank goodness you were there, JJ," offered Luke Alvez. "You handled those reporters like a pro."

Once upon a time, that would have been Reid's cue to explain how JJ had once been the unit's liaison, and how she'd mastered the art of working with and through the media, and how expertly she'd handled her role. But Reid was ensconced, once again, in the rear of the plane, his nose in a book. JJ flashed a regretful look in his direction before responding to her newer colleague.

"That used to be my job, before I became a profiler."

Luke was intrigued at that, as was Tara, who'd been just as surprised to hear it.

"Do tell."

"It's a pretty short story." _Since I can't talk about a good part of it._ "But I'll fill you in. Just….I need to talk to Spence for a minute, okay? Be right back."

She detoured to the galley before making her way down the aisle, brewing him a cup of black coffee.

 _Am I bribing, or incentivizing? Or are they the same thing?_

Reid looked up when he caught the movement in his peripheral vision. She held the steaming mug in front of her as a peace offering, should a peace offering be needed.

He didn't really want it, and he almost told her so. But then he caught something surprising in her eyes. Intimidation.

 _By me. Spencer Reid. What has it come to, that my best friend feels intimidated by me. What have I come to?_

So he simply smiled as graciously as he could, and took the mug from her, and said, "Thanks."

JJ remained in the aisle, not having been invited to join him, remembering a time, not long ago, when she wouldn't have stood on ceremony, and wishing they could get back there. But, apparently, that wasn't going to happen today. So she spoke to him from the aisle.

"Uh…Spence…..do you remember I told you we'd be celebrating Henry's birthday soon? Well, it's a week from Saturday. We'll just have some of his friends over to the house, but he'd really like it if you came. You and Pen, no one else from the team will be there. Do you think you…. Can you come?"

He took a long sip of the coffee he didn't want, as a means of gathering himself. Time had worked some of its magic on him, and he felt less emotionally brittle, but he knew he was still far from where he'd once been with his colleagues. But this wasn't just a colleague. This was his best friend. And a little boy he loved with all of his heart.

 _Suck it up, Spencer. It's not like it's such a burden to be with people who love you._

So he put down his coffee, and looked at her, and nodded.

"I can do that."

She exhaled a held breath, and thanked him, and turned to leave. As she did, he called after her,

"JJ…. I really do want to come." _And I'm sorry that I've turned this into such an ordeal._

She threw him an appreciative grin. "Great. Three o'clock."

* * *

The Wednesday before, he received another invitation. He'd made a suggestion about a possible IP case, and Clare wanted to discuss it with him.

"I know you're busy. Maybe we can talk over dinner? My treat!"

"You don't have to treat me to dinner. I'm happy to talk it through. Where should I meet you?"

"Well, if you don't mind…. Can we meet at my place? I can pick something up, or I can cook, it doesn't matter to me. I just need to be able to spread some files out, and we should probably not discuss the case in public."

They'd already shared a few take out meals at the IP office, so he wasn't quite sure why this conference needed to be different. But he was looking forward to seeing her, so…

"Sure….as long as we're not called away again."

"I'll put in a request with the Big Guy."

He smiled. _Better you than me._

* * *

Apparently Mary Clare Ryan was better connected than was Spencer Reid, because the team remained at Quantico for the remainder of the week, the profilers charged with reviewing consultation requests and cold cases. But Reid focused on a single case…..his own.

As far as the FBI was concerned, it was no longer a BAU case…..not that it had ever officially been a BAU case anyway. He could only hope that the investigative arm of the FBI was putting together the murder and conspiracy case against Cat Adams and Lyndsey Vaughn. He was relegated to 'hope', because he had yet to be invited to offer his own official testimony. Absolutely _nothing_ official had happened with him beyond his one meeting with the hierarchy, and his reinstatement to the team. To Reid, there seemed to be an attitude of institutional complacency, an 'all's well that ends well' acceptance that the trouble was over, the case closed.

 _But it didn't end well for me. I'm a mess. A solitary mess._

His sense of isolation from the others was real, even if he knew it was partially...and maybe largely... self-imposed. Earlier in the day, JJ had apparently passed by his desk, and noticed the files. He'd come back from a coffee run to see her paging through one of them.

"Is this what you're working on?"

"I have permission." Feeling challenged. Technically, his 'permission' had been the same general one granted to all of them, to select their own material.

She picked up on his tone.

"I'm not questioning it, Spence. I just want to know if you want help."

She'd caught him off guard.

"Help?"

"Yes. It just….it feels unfinished. Which is not surprising, because it also feels like we never really started it. Not until…." She stopped, realizing where she'd taken them. "Anyway, yes, I'd like to help you, if you'll let me."

His eyes went from her, to the distance, and back again, as his thoughts flew about in his head. Of all of them, he knew, she'd been the one who'd had the most difficulty holding back. She'd been the one who'd openly wanted his case. She'd been the one in tears, because she'd been denied. How could he deny her now? And yet…

"Give me a few more days with it. I need to sort through a few things. Maybe next week."

It was her turn to stare at him.

"No 'maybe' about it."

* * *

He'd become so engrossed in his research that he'd lost track of the time, and had to rush to get to Clare's. Snarled DC area traffic didn't help any, but creative driving did bring him by a French bakery, where he was able to pick up a few pastries for dessert. He'd thought about wine, but decided against it. This was supposed to be a working dinner.

Clare lived in Arlington, home to many of the young professionals working in the District, and not all that far from Reid's apartment. He'd expected to have to navigate the crowded parking lots of one of the many high rises in the area, but was relieved to discover that her address brought him to a small complex, where he took note of a child's playscape on the grounds. As the youngest occupant of his own building, Reid had none but the occasional grandchild to interact with at home. He wondered what it must be like to have children nearby all the time. Which made him remember Henry, and Michael, and his promise to see them in a few days. In spite of everything, he was looking forward to it.

The complex may have been small, but it had better security than Reid's own, and he had to buzz to be let in. After that, it was a jaunt up two flights of stairs, and he was at 3G. The door opened before he could knock.

"Hi! You made it!"

He held the pastries out in front of him. "My contribution."

She immediately peeked into the bag. "Oohh… these look great! Let's just skip dinner, and go right to dessert."

Reid took a couple of dramatic sniffs. "I don't think so. Something smells too good to pass up." He sniffed again. "But I can't quite place it."

She led him into a living space that reminded him of his own. Lined with bookshelves, it contained a sofa, reading chair and desk, and its window looked out on the playscape he'd seen when he'd arrived.

Clare brought the pastries into the kitchen and called out to him.

"I hope you're okay with spicy."

"I love spicy. What is it?"

"Pollo guisado. It's an island dish I learned to cook when I was in college. I make it a lot, mostly because it works in the slow cooker."

"Pollo guisado. That would be 'chicken stew', if I'm not mistaken."

"You speak Spanish?"

"I read it. Speaking, not so much."

She rejoined him from the kitchen, and found him perusing her bookshelves.

"See anything you like?"

Reid was bent nearly in half, studying the titles.

"They're mostly law books. I read a lot, but haven't ever really gotten into legal treatises."

She chuckled. "Pull one out."

He gave her a quizzical look, to which she indicated that he should do as she'd said. So he pulled out a thick volume on torts.

"Okay, so…ah, I see. You're a doubler."

"There's a name for that? I just didn't have enough room without putting them two deep."

She pulled out the book that had been hidden by the work on torts, handling it lovingly.

"How did you do that? You uncovered my favorite book ever."

He tilted his head, trying to see. "What is it?"

"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn."

He squinted at her. "Really? That's your favorite book ever?"

He'd grown up on the classics, and couldn't imagine bestowing such an honorific on anything not written by one of the masters of literature.

"Yep. It belonged to my grandmother. Her mother gave it to her when she was a girl, and she gave it to me. She wanted me to know what her life had been like, and she said this was pretty much it. I devoured it when I was a girl, and I've loved it ever since. It's my go-to book. You know, when I need to reconnect. Or get away. Or need a good cry. It's good for everything, I guess."

Reid nodded. "I get it. I've got a couple of authors that I visit with pretty regularly, for the same reasons. Well, maybe not the 'good cry'."

She grinned. "You like to read, then? Oh, wait, I forgot. Three PhDs. Of course you like to read."

He smiled. "I do read a lot. My mom was a professor of medieval English literature, so I pretty much grew up on the classics."

Which prompted her to ask about his mother, which prompted him to wish he'd never mentioned her.

"It's complicated."

"I did graduate law school, you know."

He was appropriately chagrined. "All right. But don't say I didn't warn you."

He explained about Diana's schizophrenia, now complicated by Alzheimer's, and her current placement in the memory care center.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry. And you have no siblings to share the burden?"

"I'm an only child."

She squeezed his arm as she walked past, a gesture of support.

"I don't know what I would do without my siblings. I can't even imagine losing Daddy without them."

Which made her ask, "Is your dad still alive?"

He could have just said, 'yes'. Or even lied, and said, 'no'. But, instead, he invited her to ask further by saying, once again, "It's complicated."

She called out from the kitchen, "Law school, Genius….remember?"

He laughed. "Duly noted." And so he told her about William, all that he could remember of him, and why there was nothing else to remember, and about their brief, ineffective, reunion almost a decade ago.

"And you haven't seen or heard from him since?" she asked, as she brought plates out to the café table.

"Not a word."

"Wow. Just….wow. I'm sorry."

He shrugged it off. "I'm past it. Past _him._ I'm fine."

"Well, he's missing out on a pretty amazing son, in my not-so-humble opinion."

He grinned. "That's what my Mom always said."

"Great minds." Then, realizing what she'd just said, in the context of what he'd just told her about Diana, she blushed. "Sorry. You know what I mean."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Mom still has her moments. She'd like you, I think."

"Really?" Joining him at the table. "Why?"

"You're honest. She doesn't tolerate artifice. And you're smart. And….." purposely changing the subject, "….you're a good cook."

She took the hint. They continued with small talk over dinner, and then Clare insisted on helping Reid with the dishes he'd insisted on washing.

"Wish I had a dishwasher. But it's usually just me, so there's not all that much to clean."

He handed her another plate. "Same for me. If I had a dishwasher, I'd run out of dishes before I needed to run it."

She laughed. "Come to think of it... "

When they were done, they returned to the table they'd dined at, and Clare spread out a few file folders.

"Okay, so this is the case you thought we might look at. I had Jasmine pull some court records and witness statements. She lucked out and scored some crime scene photos as well. See?"

Spreading the prints across the table.

Reid bent close, studying the photographs, then opened a file folder, flipping rapidly through the papers within. He moved on to another, and then back to the photos.

"Is there video? Can you get me video of him? An interrogation, maybe? Or even something not related to the case."

She'd been silent as she'd watched him work, fascinated with the process.

"Were you just skimming, or did you actually read all of that?"

"I read it. I can read 20,000 words per minute."

Her eyes widened. "Really? Wow…when I called you 'Genius' before, I was kidding. But maybe I shouldn't have been?" Posing it as a question, which he answered.

"187. So, technically, yes." _In everything but how to live my life._

"Wow. _Wow_. Okay, so that explains how you started with the FBI so young. You've been with them for ten years?"

"Twelve. I'm in my thirteenth year with the BAU. What about you? How long have you been with the Innocence Project?"

"Hmm. Well, I graduated law school at 24, and then I clerked for a state supreme court justice for two years, and then a federal appeals judge for two more after that. And then I came to the Project. So….four years, now."

He was impressed. "You must have shown some serious leadership ability to have been given the responsibility of running a completely new branch after just four years."

She blushed, in a most attractive way. Reid admired her humility. And her rosy cheeks.

"Thanks. They took a chance on me. I just hope I can live up to their expectations."

"I'm sure you will." _You've exceeded mine._

She grinned her appreciation at him, then brought them back to the subject at hand.

"So, you asked about videotape. I don't know if I can get it, but I'll try. Can I ask…how will it help you?"

"I want to see him in real time, his reactions, his expressions." He turned back to the table and lifted one of the photographs. "Whoever did this is organized. Precise. This wasn't an act of passion. It was calculated. Look at the precision of the knife thrusts. All of the wounds are the same size, and…" Rifling through a file, to find the ME's report. "….look at this, they were all of the same depth, no matter what kind of tissue they penetrated. That required extreme precision. This killing wasn't about the victim. It was about the method. From the transcripts of his interrogation, I don't think the fiancé fits the profile."

Clare could feel the excitement building, the sense that a terrible wrong had the chance to be righted.

"And you think the video will prove that?"

"Only to me. I need to be sure of something."

His mind had conjured images of the hapless Adam, perhaps now permanently consigned to oblivion by his alter, Amanda. He needed to be sure this wasn't something similar.

"I need to see the video, if you can get it. Then we'll have to make the case."

"You'll help?"

He nodded, although it had not been part of their initial arrangement.

"If I'm right, the _BAU_ will help. Because, If I'm right, we're looking at a serial killer."

* * *

The evening ended over coffee and Reid's French pastries, and a promise that each would move swiftly to bring the case along. Clare would track down the interrogation video, and Reid would ask Garcia to look for similar patterns of knifework.

Clare walked him to the door.

"So…I'll be in touch as soon as I have something. You think you'll be in town?"

He shrugged. "I never know. But, if you can say one of those prayers again, please put in a good word for Saturday. I'm supposed to go to my godson's birthday party, and I haven't seen him in a while."

Not mentioning why.

"Okay, done. Put on your party hat for Saturday. Hey, thanks for coming tonight. I really think this partnership thing is going to work out. Just think, we may have found a way to help another innocent man!"

"Please don't get your hopes up yet." _Hopes are meant for the purpose of life dashing them_. "But, maybe. And, yes, I think we work well together. But I should be thanking you. Dinner was delicious. And the company was great."

"Even if the after-dinner entertainment was a bit odd, right?"

He laughed. "Not for me." He turned to go, but felt compelled to say something more. At least, his _mouth_ seemed compelled to say it. "Next time, dinner is on me. And….and maybe we'll leave the casework behind?"

Her eyes brightened. "Sure!"

"Uh…great! Okay, thanks again."

She tipped herself up to give him a hug, and a peck on the cheek. He returned the hug, and then made his way swiftly out of the apartment. At the head of the stairs, he stopped short.

 _Did I just ask her on a date? And did she say 'yes'?_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 26**_

A mini-epidemic of strep running through Henry's classroom brought the youngster down the day before the party, putting it off for two weeks. Reid tried not to feel relieved about the postponement, but he was. Social gatherings had never been his forte, even those populated mostly by nine-year-olds. He knew he would also have been expected to interact with the parents, and JJ's mother, and despite his softening toward JJ…or maybe because of it…he didn't want to risk an unfettered emotional outburst.

Henry's illness, followed swiftly by Michael's, also kept JJ from traveling with the team, furthering Reid's isolation from the rest. A short case in Topeka, followed by a longer one in Oklahoma City, took up much of the ensuing two weeks. By the time they returned from the latter, the date was almost upon Reid. Not the date of the party. He had an additional twenty-four hours before he would have to deal with that. The date that was upon him was the date of ' _the date'_.

He should have felt intimidated, as he usually did in such a circumstance.

 _But not this time._

Maybe it was because he had a little more dating experience under his belt, such as it was. But he didn't think so.

 _It just feels natural. Like it's a natural progression between friends. Like it is with JJ._

This wasn't the first time he'd found himself comparing his relationships with the two women. His love for JJ was real, and deep, and long-held, born out of a thousand shared experiences, both big and small. Much of his adult life had been shaped by his relationship with her. She'd drawn him out when he'd needed drawing out, comforted him when he'd needed comforting, even called him out on his moods a time or two. Or twenty. JJ had given him a family on the very day that his own had exploded, for the second time in his life. She'd leaned on him, and thereby shown him his strength. She'd cried with him, and thereby accepted his vulnerability. She'd teased him, and taught him, and accepted him, just as he was.

He'd had friends before. He had them _now_. But he'd never had the uniquely validating experience of being loved…..and being _liked_ …..for the shape of his character, and not just the phenomenon of his mind, until he'd had it with JJ.

He'd wondered, from time to time, what might have happened if he'd been just a little more sophisticated at the beginning, a little more mature. Might their relationship have evolved into a romance? Would they have committed to one another, planned on spending a lifetime together?

He would get just that far, and then remind himself that they _were_ committed to one another, in many of the ways that mattered. And he couldn't even bring himself to think of the time…..that inevitable time….when they would separate, when they would no longer work together, when the word 'lifetime' would mean 'yesterday'.

So he would be grateful for what he had with her, and remind himself that their relationship was unfettered by the many expectations and compromises of married life. Sometimes, when a particularly long case left him palpably craving solitude, he was glad to be going home alone, and he wondered if maybe he wasn't exactly cut out for a life in relationship. Not _that_ kind of relationship.

Which begged the question of what he was doing getting ready to go on a date with Mary Clare Ryan. He told himself that a date was just a date, not a courtship. Two colleagues…and friends… getting together to enjoy one another's company, unencumbered by the responsibility of getting something accomplished. If he was looking forward to it just a bit more than a dinner out with Garcia or Emily, or a brunch with JJ….well, that was probably just because he couldn't quite wrap his mind around doing anything social with the team at the moment.

He'd almost blown up at Emily again yesterday. She'd made a remark about 'putting away' their unsub for good, and he'd had to literally bite his tongue to hold back a retort. His mind had virtually shouted it at her: _You 'put away' an object. You don't 'put away' a person. You punish a person, and rehabilitate him._ _You don't give up on him!_ _You don't put him somewhere and abandon him!_

He'd only realized he'd been glaring in her direction when he'd felt another pair of eyes on him…the ones belonging to David Rossi. Not ready for a confrontation with both of them, he'd simply grabbed some files and stalked away. It had taken him until this morning to cool down. And he still couldn't quite understand why.

* * *

Having sampled much of the abundant local ethnic fare via take-out working dinners, they'd selected an Afghani restaurant not far from the IP office. Clare arrived moments after Reid, and was escorted to the upper room, where she joined him at a low table serviced by a grouping of large cushions. He rose to greet her with a hug, then helped her take her seat. She grinned at him when she saw how nimbly he folded his long legs to sit at the table.

"Bet that won't last the whole night. One of my brothers is about as tall as you are, and he's always complaining about his knees."

He nodded. "I have some scar tissue in one of them, and sometimes it catches a little bit. But it's fine now, and nothing a good stretch can't fix."

"Okay, then, you're welcome to stretch your legs out and I promise I won't tickle your feet. Too much."

He grinned. "Deal."

"So, I have one thing to tell you, and then I promise I won't talk about work again. Just before I left, I heard from Janet. She's filed on the wrongful death of Luis Delgado. She said your affidavit was extremely helpful. But she doesn't think it will hold up by itself in court. She thinks the state will want to cross examine you."

Her tone told him she had an idea how hard that might be for him. The hand she reached across the table to lay over his own told him even more.

He could only nod. "I assumed that. I hoped for otherwise, but I assumed I would have to testify. It's all right."

But it wasn't all right. He'd had a hard enough time reliving the moment for the writing of the affidavit, and he'd been able to do that in the privacy of his own home. It had cost him four evenings, and two serious flashbacks, but he'd done it. But now…just the suggestion that he would have to actually speak it, to revisit it in front of an audience of strangers, and he could feel his pulse begin to race.

Clare must have seen something, because her fingers curled around his hand, and clung tightly.

"Spencer, if you can't, you can't. But, if you want to try, I'll help you get through it. I've been able to help a lot of people talk about the worst time in their lives. Goes with the territory."

He turned his hand over to squeeze hers in return. "I guess you _would_ have a lot of experience with that. I _do_ want to do it, Clare. But…I may have to take you up on that offer of help."

She smiled at him. "You won't even have to say the word. I'll just be there….annoying you."

He wasn't having it. "There's literally nothing about you that's annoying."

She sat back, laughing. "Oh, really? I should tell you about my brothers."

Which she did. They spent the rest of the dinner delving into one another's lives. He heard all about her large family, growing up on the outskirts of Manhattan. He told her about his own childhood, growing up on the outskirts of the other 'city that never sleeps'. To his own surprise, he didn't hold back on any of it, not his mother's illness, not his father's desertion, not the crushing isolation of his childhood. His formation couldn't have been more different from hers, and yet it felt important that she know him….not just who he'd become, but how. By the time they ordered coffee, he felt as though he'd turned himself inside out, even though there was so much more left to tell her.

 _And she's still smiling._

His legs had long since been stretched out, and he was leaning back into the cushion behind him, as relaxed as he could remember being. Clare leaned her head into her hand and smiled at him.

"I kind of like you, Spencer Reid."

He blushed. "I feel the same way. I mean, no, not that I like me. I mean, I like you, too."

Just a little flitter of fluster, and but he'd successfully squelched it.

She giggled. "I do believe I just made you nervous."

"Just _now_?"

She laughed outright. "All right. Can I tell you a secret? I was a little nervous about tonight myself."

"You were?"

"Mm-hmm. I….well, we work so well together, and I really respect you, and….and I guess I just didn't want to blow it."

He thought about it a moment. "You thought you might risk a good work partnership. So….why _did_ you agree to go out with me?"

"Because…. I don't know, because I just…I've never met anyone quite like you. You're smart…brilliant, actually….and dedicated. You care. And, okay, you're good looking. But…I think…more than anything else….you're _kind._ Do you know how hard that is to come by in DC?"

She'd touched him with that. She'd seen past his IQ and into his heart, and the things he truly valued. If she'd also seen his darkness, she'd chosen not to speak of it. He could only wish he could learn to do the same, to silence the voice within that perpetually reminded him that he was not worthy. Maybe he wasn't. But knowing how Clare saw him made him aspire to be.

"It's definitely a tough town, but no tougher than New York and Vegas. Somehow, we managed to beat the odds, I guess." He was quiet a moment, thinking. Then he decided to let her in on it. "Can I tell you something?"

She nodded.

"The past year of my life has been a kind of hell I wouldn't wish on anyone. But, if not for the circumstances of it, I would never have met you. I'm not into the 'everything comes together for a purpose' philosophy, but I _can_ say that I've found something for which to be grateful in all of it... _you_."

She smiled and leaned in, and this time his hand was already there to meet hers.

* * *

He kissed her. He'd kissed before, but only after he'd _been_ kissed. He'd bussed a cheek, and suffered a peck on the lips from Garcia, but he'd never before initiated a real kiss. Until tonight.

He drove her home from the restaurant, and walked her to the door of her building. She had an early Saturday meeting at the main IP office, and needed to make an early night of it.

"Have fun at the party tomorrow. This is the second time I had to pray for you to be in town for your godson's party, so I hope you pull it off. I don't want to use up my divine favors."

"Thanks. But I was kind of hoping to hear that your prayers had more to do with me being around for dinner tonight."

She smiled up at him. "That too."

Their eyes locked for a long moment, and then he lowered his face to hers. When she tipped up to meet him, he took her shoulders, and brought her close, and found her lips. And he kissed her.

 _Just like that._

Later, he had no idea how he'd gotten home.

 _Unless I floated._


	27. Chapter 27

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 27**_

Reid's finger hovered indecisively over the 'call' button of his phone, where it had been for the last five minutes. He'd awakened refreshed and….for the first time in a very long time….happy. He'd been moved to call Clare and tell her so, and thank her for coming to dinner with him. But then he'd second-guessed himself, and thought maybe he was being presumptuous that she would want to hear from him.

 _Besides, she might still be in her morning meeting. Or it might just be weird._

He was still holding the phone when it went off in his hand. Clare.

"Hello, Spencer here."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "So I hoped. Hi."

"Hi."

"I just wanted to call and thank you again for that lovely dinner last night. I really had a good time."

He hoped she wasn't just being polite. But, then, why call at all? She'd already thanked him. Maybe she really meant it. Maybe she'd enjoyed the evening as much as he had.

"Spencer?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I know I did. You're easy to talk to."

"So I've been told. I used to say it was because of the work I do, but my dad pointed out to me that maybe I chose my work _because_ I'm a good listener."

"And because you care about people enough to pay real attention to them. Don't sell yourself short, Clare."

"Bad habit. So, it's a beautiful day, your godson's party should be fun."

"Thankfully. I don't think JJ had a backup plan for quidditch."

"They're playing quidditch?! I did that in college! I love Harry Potter. I even took a philosophy course in college based on the books."

"Really? I didn't see any of them on your shelves."

"Double row, remember? They're behind my second-year law books. I revisit them every year or two."

"Ah. Well, Henry's just discovered the books." Courtesy of his godfather's last Christmas present. "He loves them too."

"What about you? You've read them, haven't you?"

He had. They were virtually the only pieces of modern fiction he'd read in recent memory. They were all the chess kids could talk about for a good while, so he'd considered them research. And then been enthralled by the story of the isolated, orphaned young boy who'd been rescued by finding his true nature, and thereby his friends. He'd related to it far more than he'd expected.

"You'll have to tell me about your philosophy course some time. I'm intrigued."

"Hey, you know what you would like? Georgetown has a course in medieval literature and Harry Potter. Knights of Old or something like that."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. It would be fun to take, wouldn't it?"

 _With you_ , he thought, _it would be fun to take with you_.

"We should talk about it. Maybe over our next dinner?"

A beat, then, "I'd like that."

They left the date open, in consideration of Reid's unpredictable schedule, and the fact that Clare was headed to court on Thursday.

"I get pretty focused when I'm in preparation. I might not be in the office much this week."

"Oh." Hoping the single syllable hadn't betrayed his disappointment. "Well, good luck with it."

"It's just a hearing for an appeal, but I like to bring my best into the courtroom."

"I'd expect no less. Uh…maybe I can give you a call tomorrow, to see how it's going?"

"Sure. And you can tell me all about quidditch with nine-year-olds."

"Great. Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow."

* * *

He headed out early, with a plan to visit his mother on his way to the party. The several away cases meant that it had been more than a week since he'd seen her.

He made his usual stop at the nurses' station, to inquire about Diana's status, and was pleased to hear that she was having a third good day in a row. Apparently her new psychiatrist was having some luck in finding the correct dosage adjustments.

Reid made his way through the hallways and toward the library, where he'd been told Diana could be found. Upon entering, he spotted her in a seat by the window, alternately reading and making notes. He shuffled through assorted chairs and sofas to reach her side.

"Hi, Mom."

She looked up, took more than a second to recognize him, and smiled.

"Spencer, how nice of you to visit. Sit down, honey. You must be tired from traveling all that way."

His eyes narrowed. Was she referencing his work trips, or did she think they were in Vegas?

 _Maybe all they meant by her having a good day was that her schizophrenia was better controlled. But only because her Alzheimer's is showing itself again._

He decided on a test.

"Mom, I drove here. Do you remember the name of this place?"

"Well I should, shouldn't I? I've been here nearly twenty years!"

He sighed. _At least she knows me._

"Never mind. I just came to see how you are. I'm on my way to JJ's for Henry's birthday party."

"Oh, that's nice. Don't forget to thank his mother for having you over."

 _Again._ His lips went up in a sad smile. "I won't. Mom…."

"What is it, Spencer? You know you can tell me anything."

"I just…. are you happy here? Are they nice to you?"

"Why wouldn't they be? I'm their oldest patient, and…" Leaning in to him conspiratorially, "….their favorite."

He smiled at the all-too-familiar claim. She'd told him that any number of times at Bennington…where it had been true. He could only hope it was true at Mountain Laurel.

"Okay. Well, then…..shall I leave you to your reading?"

"Oh, I was just taking some notes. I haven't come across this volume in years, and there it was, sitting on the shelf. I'd say it was a miracle, if I believed in miracles."

 _More like a Rossi-cle_ , he thought.

"If we're not out of town on a case, I'll come by in a few days, all right? I love you, Mom."

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and was drawn into an embrace.

"I love you too, Spencer. You're my best boy."

* * *

Reid considered the harmonics of it, trying to fathom how ten nine-year-olds, and one two-year-old, could create a din that seemed infinitely louder than the sound created by each of them combined.

 _There's got to be a paper on this._ Fully intending to research it when he got home, which he dearly hoped would be soon.

He'd arrived just before the first of the young guests, and been nearly bowled over by an excited Henry.

"It's my birthday party, Uncle Spence!"

Reid laughed, hugging him. "Yes, I know, Henry. That's why I'm here. It's also why I brought you this." Handing over a neatly wrapped package.

Henry took the gift from his godfather just as Michael ran for Reid's knees. Having learned from experience, Reid bent down and swooped up the little boy before he could make contact.

"Who is this who's gotten so big?"

"Mikey!" said the culprit. He wrapped his arms around Reid's neck for a split second, and then squiggled himself down, running after his older brother, and the present.

"Mo-om, Uncle Spence is here! Can I open my present?"

JJ emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

"Spence, hi." She greeted him with a hug, and turned to lead him into the living room, where it sounded like Henry was already tearing at the paper.

Their progress was halted when Penelope Garcia clomped down the hallway in her platform heels, and drew her gentle genius into an embrace.

"My fellow godparent, I'm glad you're here. Our godson insisted on opening my present already, I'm afraid."

"I'm Gryffindor, Uncle Spence! Just like Harry Potter!"

Garcia had gotten him a monogrammed set of robes.

"Well, then, you're going to need what's in that box."

That set Henry to tearing the paper with even more fury. When he'd unwrapped it, he lifted the top, and pulled out a thick wad of tissue paper.

"What is it, Uncle Spence?"

"I think you're about to find out, Henry. Hope it fits. It's eleven and three-quarters inches, dragonheart string, if I'm not mistaken."

JJ hadn't read the books, but Henry had insisted she watch the movies. So she wasn't surprised when Henry unfurled the tissue paper to reveal a thin piece of wood, just under a foot long, thicker at the bottom, and thinner at the top, and varnished in a deep hue of brown by the loving hands of his godfather.

"It's a wand! Thanks, Uncle Spence!"

"It's different from a magician's wand, Henry. This one is for wizards."

"I know!" Henry practiced waving the wand around, and then aimed it at his little brother.

"Stupidify!"

"Henry, I think it's 'stupefy'", corrected his Uncle Spence.

"Oh, yeah."

* * *

Quidditch went reasonably well until one of the boys decided to play Star Wars instead, and turned his broom into a not-so-light saber. That was Will's cue to break up the game, and JJ and Sandy's to bring the boys inside for cake and ice cream. In the eerie quiet brought on by the act of eating, adult conversation became more easily audible. That was when things fell apart for Reid.

Most of the parents had dropped their sons off, but two of the mothers had stayed behind. Once the hubbub of the game died down, their exchange carried on, in not-so-hushed tones, accompanied by a number of furtive looks.

"Isn't that the guy….."

"OMG, it is. I _think_ it is. She does work for the FBI, doesn't she? It's probably him."

"But I thought he murdered someone. Why isn't he in prison?"

"I know, right? And to have him around children!"

Reid could only hope JJ hadn't heard. It would hurt her, and ruin Henry's party. He tried very hard to suppress the red rising up his neck, and slowly discarded his plate and walked outside. He was no longer in the room to hear Penelope Garcia barge into the conversation between the two women. Beside herself, it was all she could do to keep her voice at a whisper. She completely missed the signal from JJ….who had most definitely heard….not to make a scene.

"I'll have you know that he is my friend, and JJ's friend, and a very good man! You can't believe everything you read in the paper, you know. Unless you've read it on page fifteen. Because, if you had read page fifteen as well as you read the headlines, you would know that it was all a mistake. That he was framed. He didn't do anything wrong!"

Appropriately chagrined, the women apologized, but Reid wasn't around to hear it. He'd fled to the backyard, where he was sought out by a concerned Sandy Jareau. She found him sitting on a lawn chair, hunched forward, forearms resting on his knees. Sandy took the seat next to him.

"Penelope is setting them straight, Spencer. There's no need to isolate yourself."

He threw a look over his shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen.

"She shouldn't bother. I shouldn't have come here. I don't want to ruin Henry's party."

Sandy laughed. "I'm pretty sure Henry is on a sugar high. He won't even know there were adults in the room. Not to mention that he adores his Uncle Spence and would have been sad if you hadn't been here."

Reid tried to smile, but it wouldn't come.

"I just… I don't want to be the cause of anything….of anything _more_. I don't want anyone _else_ to suffer because of me."

"Henry will be fine. And so will Jennifer. It's you I'm worried about, right now." Sandy's maternal antennae were on high alert.

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"And that's why you're sitting out here, looking like you haven't a friend in the world, when I happen to know that you've got two very good ones about fifteen feet away."

"I know that. I just…..I don't…..I can't…"

Sandy sat forward and turned her face toward his, drawing his gaze.

"Spencer, I know it's been hard for you. Jennifer has told me a little bit of it. Please don't be angry with her, she hasn't betrayed your confidence. But she _is_ my only….my daughter, and I could see that she was upset, so…"

"I'm not angry with JJ. I don't think I could be."

"But you _are_ angry with the others. That's what she told me. That you're having trouble, you're struggling, not just from whatever you experienced, but because you feel like they weren't there when you needed them. You're struggling to forgive them."

He tried to deny it, in large part because he knew how petty it made him look.

"There's nothing to forgive. I know they tried. And I know they had constraints. I just… I don't know, I can't explain it. It doesn't make any sense."

Sandy sat back and sighed. His claim that it didn't make sense made perfect sense to her. She spent a long moment of silence visiting with the past. And then she reached a decision.

"If you're willing to listen, I have a story to tell you."


	28. Chapter 28

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 28**_

Reid turned to look back at Sandy Jareau, catching a fleeting glimpse of pain in her eyes, and he almost said 'no'.

 _Why should she be burdened, just because I've made a mess of my life?_

But Sandy didn't give him a chance. Treating her question as rhetorical, she simply began her story.

"You know that I once had two daughters, that Jennifer had a sister, don't you?"

His eyes widened at the hint of what she wanted to tell him about. It had been years into their friendship before JJ had even mentioned it.

"Rosalyn."

Sandy's voice was steady. "Yes, Roz. She was a beautiful girl, just coming into herself. Jennifer adored her, and Charles and I were so proud of her accomplishments. She was an 'A' student, and brilliant on the piano, and she had such a love for animals. But, more than anything, more than anything she'd _done_ , we were proud of who she'd become. She was sensitive, and caring, a wonderful sister, and daughter, and friend. She was always sticking up for the kids the others picked on."

Reid gave a small smile. "Sounds like her sister." Then, realizing, he added, "And her mother."

Sandy's gaze moved away from Reid, and into the past. "I think Jennifer modeled herself after Roz, especially after…..after we lost her. I think she was trying to be both of them, for me."

Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau hadn't known each other all that time ago, but he could picture her in his mind's eye, a lost eleven-year-old girl trying to hold her family together by filling its gaping hole. Just as she'd tried to fill the gap between himself and the team, while he'd been in prison. In that moment, he loved her even more deeply, and vowed to himself that he would no longer allow his lingering resentment to come between them.

Sandy continued. "I should have known, then, that Roz needed me more. As a mother, I tried to treat my daughters the same, to give each of them the same amount of attention, and praise, and time. But Roz needed me more….and I didn't see it. She'd reach out, but then she'd pull back, and I'd think it was just teenage angst and hormones, and I'd leave her to herself. I didn't know she needed _me_ to reach out to _her_. I didn't know how desperately she needed a hand to latch on to ….not until it was too late."

"Mrs. Jareau…Sandy….you don't have to do this."

"It's all right, Spencer. I'm telling you this because I want to."

 _And because I see, beside me, someone else who needs someone to reach out to him._

Reid acquiesced, and remained silent, as Sandy continued.

"She took her life. I thought she was just sulking, and I left her alone to work through it….and she took her life. I let my first-born child feel so alone in the world that the only way she could feel better was to leave it."

Reid couldn't sit there and listen to the woman berate herself.

"We can't always know what another person is thinking, not really. We can only love the people we love, in the best way we know how. But we can't always make them feel it."

 _Who would know that better than the son of a schizophrenic mother?_

Sandy gave him a sad smile, and a pat on the knee. "Thank you for that. And you're right. But it was a long time before I could bring myself to acknowledge that. For months….no, for _years_ ….after Roz died, I blamed myself. If I'm honest, there's a good part of me that still does. I withdrew, from my husband, and Jennifer, from my friends. I didn't feel worthy. If Roz couldn't have a life surrounded by people who loved her, what business did I have with such a life?"

"But you had JJ." Worried about the child his best friend had been, all these years after the fact.

Sandy nodded. "I had Jennifer. And a husband. And a life I'd virtually stopped living. Charles practically forced me into therapy. Which is where I learned to admit how angry I was at him, for not making me see. And Jennifer, for getting to live the life Roz would never have. And Roz."

He understood. "You were angry with her for leaving, for not trying harder."

After a short silence, Sandy answered him. "I was. And I learned to forgive all of them, for things of which they were never guilty. But the one person I couldn't learn to forgive was myself."

She waited to see him take it in, looking for some sign of recognition. But it wasn't forthcoming, so she tried saying it another way.

"I'd incorporated it. I'd made myself believe that it was a part of me, a defect in my person. It made me unworthy of being a parent, or even a wife. It made me unworthy of being happy."

She watched as Reid closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. Her words had found their target. But she had more to tell him.

"It probably took me longer than it should have, but I finally came to realize how much I was still hurting the people I loved the most. How, in deeming myself unworthy, I'd withheld myself from them. Charles practically shook it out of me one day, God bless him. He made me see."

After that, she let silence fall between them, long silence, during which Reid's hands were so tightly clasped that his fingers had turned pale. Finally, his eyes fluttered open again. In the brief second that they were turned to her, she saw the pain reflected within.

"I did something."

Barely a whisper, but she'd heard him.

"Spencer…"

"I did something, and a lot of people were hurt."

She waited him out.

"I thought I was doing it to protect myself. But I knew it would probably hurt them….and I did it anyway."

"And you can't forgive yourself."

A statement, not a question. Sandy recognized the anguish that had been her nearly constant companion several decades ago.

He shook his head. "No."

Sandy turned to face him directly. "Spencer, you were in a terrible situation, through no fault of your own. You were put there by two women who have nothing but hate in their hearts. You had your mother to think about, and your friends. I can't even imagine what it would have done to Jennifer, or the boys, if you hadn't been released. You'd been through a terrible ordeal, from what Jennifer told me. Losing a friend, being beaten yourself..."

Sandy had to stop there, unexpectedly tearing up at the thought of what the young man before her had been through. Reid took the opportunity to respond to her.

"But the point is, I did it. I had it in me…. _have_ it in me….to deliberately, _knowingly_ hurt another human being."

Having regained her voice, Sandy asked him, "What would have happened to you if you hadn't done what you did?"

He shrugged. "I can't know. That's the thing, right? That I can't know if it was necessary or not. I can only know that it showed me what kind of person I am."

Sandy studied him for a minute, long enough for him to realize she was doing it.

"What kind of person _are_ you, Spencer?"

The question carried weight, as though she really wanted to know. Or as though she really wanted _him_ to know. So, when he failed to respond, she did it for him.

"From what I can see, and from what I've learned from several people we both love, you are a kind, sensitive, highly intelligent man, who sees more than most people see, who understands more than most people understand. That brings you a great sense of empathy...and a compulsion to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"But I…."

Sandy laid a hand on his arm. "Spencer, you're trying to carry your own guilt and the guilt of people who would have hurt you badly. You're comparing yourself to men ...and women... who are nothing like you. Don't do it."

He could only shake his head. "I feel trapped. I feel like I'm stuck in a place, and I don't know how to move."

Sandy's hand squeezed his arm in solidarity.

"I learned the hard way that it was impossible to move forward until I learned to forgive myself. Jennifer says you're struggling because you can't forgive the others, but I wonder if she's wrong about that."

Reid's eyes filled, and he had to swallow before he could answer her.

"I don't know _how_ to forgive myself. I can't forget it, I can't just put it out of my mind."

Sandy gave a sigh of experience. "A pastor once told me that, when God forgives, God also forgets. Our sins are gone, as though they never happened, our faults evaporated. But humans…well, we're a different story."

Reid just shook his head. _Try being one with an eidetic memory._

After a moment, he offered, "Sometimes, I wish I believed in God. Then I could ask forgiveness. Maybe it would help. It would sure make things simpler."

Sandy wasn't so sure about that. "A belief in God may make things easier, but _simpler_?"

He laughed at himself. "Yeah, no. I get it. I just…. I don't know what to do."

She did. "What you can't do, what you mustn't do, is punish yourself. You'll never feel like it's enough, so you'll never stop. What you _have_ to do is to accept yourself. Accept that you are human, made of aspirations and frailties, light _and_ darkness. But don't inhabit the darkness, Spencer, don't submit to it. Own it, and make _it_ submit to _you_. Embrace the light. And, for the rest of your life, remember how fragile a balance it can be. It's a choice, Spencer. Always an active, purposeful choice. You need to make it."

She could see the turmoil boiling within him, and leaking out onto his cheeks.

"I want to. I want to move on. I can't live like this. And I know I can't change the past. I just…."

"Exactly. You can't change the past, but you can choose how you will live your future. Choose it, Spencer. The man who did what you did in prison isn't the whole of you. He's not even a small part. Don't let _him_ live the rest of your life. _Choose_."

He sniffled as he used his sleeve to wipe at the wetness on his face, eventually moving his eyes back to Sandy.

" _You've_ never forgotten, have you?"

Her smile was sad. "Rosalyn is with me every day. But so is Jennifer. I found a way to love both of my daughters, and to trust that they both know that I love them. I've never forgotten, Spencer. But I live with the love, and not the regret. That's _my_ choice."

Sandy stood, and pulled Reid up with her.

"I have a friend living at Mountain Laurel. A few times when I've visited her, I've also visited your mother. She doesn't always remember who I am, but she always remembers to tell me about her wonderful son, whom she loves so very much. I know she can't be as present to you as either of you need. So I hope you'll let me stand in for her, just for a minute. Because I know that both she and I need you to have this."

She opened her arms, and he surprised himself by walking into them. It should have felt awkward, but it didn't. Theirs hadn't been this kind of relationship. Until now.

Sandy held him, and whispered up to him, "Mothers know their children. And your mother knows you to be a hero. She's told me over, and over again. Live your life that way, Spencer. _Choose_."

When she let him go, she said, "I'm going to start picking up out here. Why don't you go inside and find my grandsons? I think you might be able to get a little taste of hero worship from them."

He smiled. "Sandy...thank you. I'll try. I will. I can't promise that I'll get there, but I can promise that I'll try."

Sandy grinned at him. "I'm about to let you in on a little secret addiction of mine."

At the puzzled look on his face, she said, "There is no 'try'. There is only 'do'."

* * *

Reid was still smiling as he entered the house once again. To his pleasant surprise, the kitchen was empty, and a great silence had descended. He made his way down the hall to find JJ seated in the living room, watching Michael play on the floor.

"Everybody's gone?"

JJ looked up, her brow immediately furrowed. She'd seen him engaged in deep conversation with her mother, and now he looked emotionally exhausted.

"Are you all right? You look like you're about to fall over."

"Just tired is all. I came in to say goodbye. Looks like I missed the rest of them. Is Garcia gone too?"

"She has a date with Sam. Spence, I'm sorry about before. I don't really even know them, they just came with their sons."

He waved her down. "It's all right. I just hope it didn't ruin anything for Henry."

JJ smiled. "Are you kidding? He and Toby are in his room, playing with his new remote-control helicopter. Wait until I figure out who gave it to him. Have you ever heard of 'revenge-gifting'?"

By now, Michael had tired of his blocks and was begging to be held by his godfather. Reid bent to lift him, and scooped up a book from the shelf at the same time.

"How about we read for a bit, okay? Then I have to go."

He settled onto the sofa, and pulled Michael into his lap. The nap-deprived toddler's head fell back against his godfather's chest. As Reid entered into the story, the vibration of his voice soothed the youngster and lulled him nearly to sleep. It also drew Henry out of his room, leaving Toby to wreak solo havoc with the helicopter.

"Can I read it to him?"

It was something they'd been doing since Michael had been born. At first, it had been a way for Henry to show off his reading skills to his godfather. But it had long since become a bonding activity among the three of them, a means of being close with one another, even if none of them could ever have articulated it. So it was perfectly natural that it should happen again today. Perfectly natural, and yet something they hadn't done in more than half a year, as Reid had been consumed with the responsibility of his mother and her illness, and then _been_ consumed by prison, and its devastating aftermath. To be once again surrounded by the boys he loved, doing the thing they loved to do, felt achingly, blessedly familiar, a reminder of a life he'd once known.

Henry settled onto the sofa next to Reid, and pulled the book across both of their laps. Sleepy Michael took the opportunity to turn himself, settling his head on his godfather's shoulder, and his body heavily against Reid's chest. Henry began to read, copying his uncle's habit of giving each character a separate voice. Reid closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the sofa cushion, listening. Feeling. Being.

JJ looked across the room at three of the people she loved. Henry, animated and happy. Michael, peacefully asleep atop his godfather. And Reid. Washed out. Exhausted. Relaxed. Content.

She knew what he was feeling, because she'd felt it herself, countless times. The dead weight of a child's sleeping body, grounding her. The bright innocence of a child's voice, lifting her. The sense of being enfolded, and needed, and beloved. JJ welled up in gratitude that her children should be providing that experience to her dear, anguished friend.

Moments later, Will called to Henry. It was time to take Toby home.

Reid gave him a one-armed hug. "Hey, Buddy, I'll probably head home too. Thanks for inviting me to your party. It was a lot of fun."

"We can play Harry Potter the next time you come over, Uncle Spence! But you have to bring your own wand."

"I'll get to work on it."

* * *

JJ led the way to Michael's room, where Reid laid the boy gingerly onto his bed. Then he stood and watched the gentle rise and fall of the small chest that had laid so comfortingly upon his own.

JJ stood beside him, watching as well. "He was exhausted," she whispered. "He never stopped moving from the time he got up this morning. Thanks for getting him settled down."

He flashed her a smile. "Thanks for sharing him. It felt good."

She grinned. "It _looked_ good. You looked relaxed. But now you look like you could collapse. Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm okay." Then he looked at her directly. "And I just hope _we're_ still okay. I'm sorry for whatever distance I've put between us."

JJ leaned into him from the side, wrapping her arms around his waist, as he slipped a hand around her shoulder.

"We're okay. You're here, and we're still together, and that's all that matters."

He squeezed her close, and she returned it.

"Did you know your mom's a pretty amazing person?"

She grinned up at him. "You've been Sandyied."

"There's a name for it?"

"Dad once told me that Mom was his hero. He said she'd won the most difficult battle of all, and that I should follow her example. Once I was mature enough to agree with him, I saw how wise they both were. So now, she's my hero too."

"Make that three."

"She helped you?"

"She showed me how to help myself. I think it's about time I started."

He moved back out into the hallway, and JJ walked him to the door, where they parted with another embrace. He was already started down the walk before it occurred to him, and he turned back to her.

"it's funny," he said. "It's already been a couple of months, but, just now, just today…..I feel like I've finally come home."


	29. Chapter 29

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 29**_

"Hi. It's Spencer."

 _I know._ She'd answered as soon as she'd seen his name on the screen.

"Hi yourself. How was the party?"

"Loud. But Henry had fun, which was the point."

"But did his Uncle Spencer have fun? I know you were ambivalent about seeing any of the others."

"I was, but….. it all turned out okay."

"You know, I'm not a profiler, but I _am_ a lawyer. I can read both body language _and_ vocal intonation."

"You're saying….?"

"I'm saying...no, forget it, I'm being intrusive, as usual. It was just that you hesitated, and I worried that it meant something had been hard for you, that you'd struggled."

Reid was glad she wasn't able to read his facial expression as well as his tone, because, right now, it reflected both the wonder and humility of knowing that she cared that much about him, and the surprise of having been found out.

"No worries. To tell the truth, there _were_ a few moments. But, on the whole, it was a good day."

 _You are a guarded man, Spencer Reid_ , she thought. They'd shared some deep conversation over the past few weeks, and she'd thought of them as growing closer. But, apparently, that closeness didn't extend to phone calls.

"Well, I'm glad, then. Did Henry like your present?" He'd told her about making the wand.

"He loved it. I think JJ liked it too, since it's not battery-powered and doesn't fly in the air."

"What?"

He told her about Henry's new remote-control helicopter.

She laughed. "I can just imagine what his parents thought of that."

"Yeah, JJ mentioned something about 'revenge-gifting."

"Ha, ha! I think I like JJ more and more every time you mention her."

He hesitated a second, before responding. "I think she'd like you, too."

It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him.

"Well, maybe we'll meet sometime, and find out."

Keeping it light, though she was intrigued by the idea of meeting some of his friends, if a little intimidated about the idea of meeting his _best_ friend.

He kept it light as well. The more he got to know Clare, the more important it was becoming to him to think that she would like his friends, and that they would like her. It never even occurred to him that they might like her simply _because_ she cared for him. He had no basis for comparison, since he'd kept his one prior relationship hidden from most of them until it was too late.

Reid changed the subject. "So, how did your case preparation go?"

"Really well. I think I'm ready. Which doesn't mean I won't keep reviewing and revising until the very last minute. I'm nothing if not over-prepared, when I step into a courtroom."

"But spontaneous, too, if you're still making changes on the fly."

"I guess so. I'm usually pretty prepared on the law. It's the part about getting into the heads of my opposition that prompts any last minute changes. I research their prior cases to try to figure out how they're going to frame the current one, how their thought processes work, what they'll choose to present in court, what angles they'll focus on…"

"You profile them."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. It's not all that different from what we do. In our setting, we don't know the identity of the person we're studying, but we use their actions to try to determine their motivations, how their minds work, what kinds of personality traits they have, things like that. It's very similar."

"Wow, what do you know? Dad would be so proud to know his daughter is a profiler!"

They chatted a bit more, and made tentative plans for dinner the night she was finished with court, provided he was in town. Then Reid had another thought.

"Do you like brunch?"

"I like the 'br' part…breakfast is my favorite meal."

He chuckled. "Well then, whether or not we pull off dinner, would you like to go to brunch on Saturday? I know a great place, and they do the 'br' part really well."

The idea of spending a leisurely day together with Clare appealed to Reid. Apparently, it appealed to Clare, too.

"It's a date! And, if we're really lucky, two!"

* * *

When JJ arrived to work on Monday, she found her best friend hidden behind a mountain of paper.

"What's this?"

"I asked Garcia to print out the reports on my case, both the original and the most recent versions."

"Original and most recent?"

"Yes. I know people go back in to edit for spelling or grammar, but I'm looking for changes to content. The only way to know is to compare, and she knew how to still find the originals."

JJ grinned. This was what she'd been hoping to see in him, a fighting spirit. _Thanks, Mom!_

She motioned to him with both hands.

"Gimme, gimme!"

"You want some of them?"

"I told you, I'm in this with you. I want to help you, Spence."

He threw her a grateful smile. "All right. But…"

"I know, I can't do it as fast as you can. But I can at least look for any indication that there was a change made. If there was, I can highlight it for you. You know, using one of these."

She reached over his desk and removed one of the yellow markers he'd had to buy on his own, since the FBI no longer supplied them.

He grinned. "See, I told you they would come in handy one day."

"Only because you insist on…..oh, forget it. You're right, it's easier to do these side-by-side anyway."

He made a show of zipping his lip, but broke through it to make a point.

"Actually, I also wanted to limit my own digital footprint. If we've got a mole, it's possible they're still watching, and I don't want them to see me logging in and out of these."

JJ agreed. "Good thought. And, on the bright side, if we do find something, I'm pretty sure Emily will be able to get highlighters back as a line item in the budget."

"Ha, ha."

She chuckled as she grabbed his empty mug from his desk.

"I'll bring you a refill."

Apparently Reid had cleared his project with Emily, who simply nodded approvingly as she whisked by them on her way to her office. As she poured their coffee, JJ made eye contact with the unit chief, silently asking approval to help, and received a smile in reply. Until the team was called out, the two could pursue Reid's case.

They'd been at it only a few minutes when Reid rose and walked over to the coffee bay. JJ watched in curiosity as he reached into a cupboard and retrieved a packet of sugar. He amended his coffee, tasted it and, apparently satisfied, returned to his desk. JJ quickly brought her eyes back to the folder in front of her, but she couldn't hide a smile.

 _One packet at a time._

* * *

They'd only planned to go back as far as the case from which Reid had traveled to Houston, but JJ wondered if they should go further.

"Cat Adams has hated you since that night in the restaurant. There's no reason to believe that she waited almost a year to start plotting her revenge."

Reid conceded the point. "But there had to have been a reason she acted when she did. Maybe it was as simple as opportunity, but I don't think so."

JJ looked at him. "You obviously have an idea about it. Spill."

"I think she wanted it to be about my mother. Tangentially, granted, but I think she purposely went after me when she knew I was trying to help my mother. She resents that I lied to her about her father."

"But why wait so long, then? Why not go to Bennington, and…..oh, my God, maybe she did!"

"What?"

"Maybe your mom didn't just wander away that day, when she wound up in the casino. She's never been a wanderer before, nor since, right? Maybe Lyndsey helped that happen."

Reid chewed on it. JJ was right, Diana had never been a wanderer. And Bennington's was a pretty well-secured campus. Maybe Lyndsey Vaughn had actually absconded with Diana….or maybe 'Carol Atkinson' had signed her out that day.

"So, that would mean two things. That Cat somehow had personal information on me long before we thought, and that Lyndsey and Cat were already connected, long before I went to Mexico."

"Did you ask Garcia to look into who accessed your files?"

"Whoever it was didn't leave a footprint. All she could tell me was that there were multiple accessions."

"Didn't leave a footprint? As in some sort of cyber-stealth thing? Who can do that, besides Garcia?"

"That's what we need to find out."

* * *

Two hours later, JJ had to stretch. She got up and twisted her back, yawning widely.

Reid looked over with an apologetic smile.

"Need a break?"

"Yes. It's making me a little dizzy, going back and forth from one version to the other, looking for changes. Are you sure Pen can't trace back what was edited?"

"She probably can, but I need to see it in context, so I need to read the whole thing anyway. If it's too much for you, I can just do it. I appreciate your trying, though."

She gave him a look. "I didn't say it was too much for me, I just said I needed a break. I'm not used to sitting like this anymore."

"Sorry. I do appreciate it, though." Feeling a need to change the subject. "So, did Henry enjoy his party?"

She went for it. "Do you mean 'the best party _ever_ '? Yes, he did. He and Will went to a scout thing yesterday and the quidditch game was all the talk. And he was absolutely tickled that you made that wand for him. He said you must have used magic, because all wands choose the wizard, and this was the only wand for him. I went along with him, but I know what really made it special. Love."

He smiled. "Love…and varnish." He tilted back in his chair and spun to face her. "I missed them, the boys. You, too, of course, but…. they don't judge. They don't care where you've been or what you've done. They just love you. I missed that."

She tilted her head. "I get it. For the record, I will never judge you either, Spence. And I love you, too. But, yeah, I get it. There's something about kid love. There's no 'I love you in spite of.. whatever', there's just, 'I love you'. Believe me, I count on it."

He made a face at her. "Pshaw. There's no need for you to count on it. There's no 'whatever' to be in spite of."

"You lie. But that," said JJ, as she walked by him, ruffling his hair, "is why I love you." She reached for his mug again. "More coffee?"

He nodded, and then watched her as she walked over to the coffee bay. All at once it hit him, the sweet familiarity of it, the affection, the acceptance, the small acts of love, and friendship, and kindness. The nothingness of it, when, really, it was everything. All that he'd thought had been lost to him, and here it was, and it would have been so easy to take it for granted, as he'd done for so long. But he was a changed Spencer Reid, and he would take nothing for granted, ever again. Not the richness of a treasured, long-time friendship, and not the giddy excitement of a new one.

When JJ returned with their two mugs of coffee, he had a question for her.

"Are you up for brunch on Saturday? There's someone I'd like you to meet."


	30. Chapter 30

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 30**_

Clare's court case wrapped in her client's favor on Wednesday, but it was another twenty-four hours before Reid was back in town to celebrate with her. He'd insisted on taking her out this time, to mark the occasion.

"You'll get no argument from me. I left them all at the feet of the judge."

He smiled into the phone. "Well, I'm pretty impressed. You got an innocent man released."

That was met with a short silence. "Uh…Actually, I just got him a new trial. It was the best the evidence could get us, this time. A true exoneration is pretty rare. I've had them, but they're hard to come by."

 _Tell me about it_ , thought Reid.

"Then we'll celebrate the opportunity of a new trial. At least you've given him hope. That goes a long way in prison."

"That, it does. So, what will it be this time? Not that you asked, but I'm kind of craving Greek food."

"I like pretty much anything but Chinese."

"Who doesn't like Chinese?" Surprise in her voice.

"Me. Well, I don't mind the food, I just don't like eating it."

She laughed. "You're going to have to explain that one to me. Tonight, then?"

"I'll pick you up at seven."

She hesitated a moment, then, "Um, I don't know if I should ask…if maybe I'm not supposed to ask, but… did you catch him? The killer?"

He had to hesitate as well. It hadn't even occurred to him that there might be a protocol for how much he could share about his job with someone who wasn't a part of it. _But there is. I'm sure it's in the handbook_. Which he'd memorized, but the unused information had since been buried by layers of things more practical. He would have to ask JJ how she handled it with Will. With Maeve, his contact had been so scheduled, and so driven by her stalking and her need for isolation, that it had virtually never come up. And that one time he'd called her for a consult, he'd only posed specific questions; he'd never really discussed the case with her.

He equivocated. "We caught the killer." _But it wasn't a 'him', it was a 'her'._

"Great! Or…not?" Reading his intonation, once again.

"Clare, I don' t know if…"

"Say no more! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position. Just wanted to celebrate with you, if celebrating was in order."

"It's all right. And, considering the businesses both of us are in, I guess there will always be mixed feelings about success, right? I mean, for either of us to get a win, someone has had to suffer a great injustice."

"You're right, of course. So… maybe we can just celebrate a night off. How's that?"

He smiled, though she couldn't see. "I can handle that. So, Greek?"

"That place in Dupont Circle. Zorba's? I've heard good things, but never made it there."

"Zorba's it is. I'll see you tonight, Clare."

"I'll be ready at seven. See you then!"

* * *

"Ugh, Spence, the last thing I want to talk about when I go home is work. I mean, I vent a little, I guess. But we kind of have this unspoken compact about not bringing the bad stuff home."

Fully remembering a number of times when she had, including when the 'bad stuff' had to do with what had happened to the man beside her in the elevator.

He could understand that. "What about the good stuff?"

"All of it, and none of it. Will can tell if we got our bad guy, just by the look on my face. After that, we leave it."

 _Except that time when I let that little girl die in the fire. Except then._

Her husband had pulled it out of her that time, but only barely, and still only in generalities. He'd satisfied himself with that. It had been his wife and her emotional state he'd been worried about, not the facts of the case.

JJ didn't realize she'd fallen out of her conversation with Reid until he nudged her elbow.

"You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." The door opened, and they exited to the lobby. "So, I guess this is getting serious, isn't it? I mean, if you're wondering how to handle work inside the relationship."

Studying him, wanting to be happy for him, but finding herself worried, instead. He'd been so emotionally traumatized by what had happened to him, more deeply than most of the others understood. But she did. She'd seen it, and heard it. She'd even felt it, in the shaking of his limbs, and the desperate tightness of his grasp. JJ wasn't so sure it was a good idea for him to enter a serious relationship so soon after emerging from such an emotionally fragile state.

 _But at least he_ is _emerging. I do think he's taken some huge steps away from it._

So she would be supportive, if wary, of this burgeoning relationship. Maybe Clare was part of the reason for his progress. Maybe she was _the_ reason.

 _If that's true, I already love her. Either way, I'm anxious to meet her on Saturday._

* * *

Reid knocked on her door precisely at seven, eyes widening when it swung open.

"Wow-you look beautiful!" Then, realizing, "I mean, not that you don't always look beautiful, because you do. But…."

"But you've only ever seen me in 'office-wear'. This is my 'celebration outfit'."

 _Also known as my 'date dress'._

She'd specifically selected the deep purple fabric to highlight the green of her eyes. If the look on Reid's face was any indication, she'd been successful.

She'd also paid some extra attention to her hair, and getting her makeup just right, and spritzing a little of her favorite perfume onto her wrists. She couldn't quite tell if he'd noticed any of that.

 _He's too cerebral. I'm lucky he noticed the dress at all._

But her assumption was disproved when he spoke again.

"It brings out the color of your eyes. They're really striking."

She blushed, even though he'd seen exactly what she'd hoped he would.

"Thanks. Although I'm probably overdressed for Zorba's."

"That's okay, I'm _always_ overdressed."

She'd noticed. And she'd liked. But, just now, she laughed.

"Well, okay, then, let's go to Zorba's and give the place some class."

* * *

The food had been as good as promised, but the popular restaurant had been so crowded that they'd chosen to sit outdoors, despite the chilly night. Heaters studding the area made it tolerable.

"Oh, that was so good!" Clare pushed her nearly-empty plate away and sat back in her chair.

Reid was pleased that she'd enjoyed it. "Bet I know where our next work dinner is coming from."

"I'll have to make sure Jasmine knows how to get here." Shivering as she spoke.

"You're cold." Reid rose to remove his suit jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. "Better?"

She smiled at the chivalry, and the warmth, and just that slightest sense of intimacy, whether or not it had been intended.

"Much, thanks. So, you were telling me about your friend Derek. It sounds like you really miss him. Had you worked with him long?"

"Since I started with the BAU. We weren't always that close, but ….I guess we kind of grew into it."

"I've done so many different things since I graduated that I've never had a chance to develop that kind of deep bond with someone from work. I think I've been much more focused on the actual work, and not the relationships."

Reid spent a moment thinking about what she'd just said. It didn't jive with the personality she'd shown him in the time they'd been working together. To Reid, she'd been warm, and encouraging. Focused, yes. But not at the expense of developing a relationship. He began to wonder if she used her work as a shield, more than a little bit familiar with that strategy himself.

She intrigued him, with her paradoxical personality. She impressed him with her dedication and competence. And she attracted him. He really did think she was beautiful, if not in a traditional way. But he was attracted by more than that. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

 _Must be pheromones._

Inserting his own, patented, form of shielding. Whenever Reid was unsure of himself, he analyzed.

Clare misinterpreted the extended silence. "Not that I'm saying I try to avoid relationships. Just that I've not been around long enough for them to happen." Still not happy with how she'd put it. "But that doesn't mean that I haven't made some good friends."

"Derek became more than a good friend. He became like family to me. In fact, I'm the godfather to his son, Hank Spencer."

"Really? He named his son after you?"

"Well, 'Hank' is for Derek's father, but, yes, 'Spencer' is for me."

"Wow, that's some friendship. You must have been happy when he asked you."

"Honored. I didn't expect it because…I don't know, I just didn't."

Clare puzzled over that. To her mind, it was only natural that such a deep friendship might incur a family relationship one day, yet Reid sounded like he'd been genuinely surprised by it. Then she remembered what he'd told her of his childhood, and it began to make sense.

 _A lot of it is new to him, in his adulthood. He never had the friendships, and he barely had the family, when he was a kid. He has so little to measure 'family' by. And yet, I relate with him so easily. Why is that? How?_

She could feel herself verging on the edge of a long period of pondering, and purposely pulled herself back. Pondering could wait for her journal.

"So, you have two other godsons with your friend JJ, right? But neither is named after you?"

He smiled at the thought of the boys who'd captured his heart. "Nope. Henry and Michael. Although, there is another little 'Spencer' out there somewhere."

She almost dropped her wineglass. She'd had no idea. "You have a son?!"

Reid realized what she'd inferred, and was quick to correct it.

"Oh…oh, no, I don't have any children!" Contrary to what Cat Adams would have had him believe. "I just meant that there was a woman…a victim… who went into labor while we were with her, JJ and myself. I delivered the baby, and she named him 'Spencer'."

She put her hand to her chest in mock relief. "Oh. Thank God. I thought you were telling me something else."

He knew what she meant, but he didn't know quite how to interpret it. So he asked her something that he would never have thought to ask anyone, would never have been emboldened enough to put into words, because it embodied so many assumptions, and it felt so intrusive. But there was a part of him, the part that hosted a long-held, deep-seated longing, that demanded to know.

"Would it have made a difference? If I'd had a child, I mean."

She'd been caught off guard. "You mean…would it have made a difference between us? In our relationship?" Pausing a moment, then, "Do we _have_ a relationship, Spencer? Do you want one?"

Neither of them realized she hadn't actually answered him. Reid leaned forward, staring intently at her across the table.

"I'm willing to see if we're growing one. I… I guess I think we've planted some seeds." Wary still, in spite of his pheromones.

She returned his look, equally intent, and then she smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Except that I think we've moved past the seedling stage. I think I can feel something sprouting."

He grinned at her continuation of his metaphor. "Me too."


	31. Chapter 31

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 31**_

Emily called him into the office as soon as he got in the next morning.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she told him. "I just wanted to ask if you'd made any progress. You know, about the mole."

Reid took a moment to study his old friend, now his boss. Part of him wondered if she'd only been humoring him in his quest. Actually, most of him did. He tried to read her face for that tell-tale hint of indulgence, but couldn't be sure it was there.

"Does this mean you're on board with it?"

"With the search? Yes, of course, I told you it was fine."

"That's not what I'm asking. Are you on board with the idea that we have a mole? That someone leaked internal information on me to Cat Adams?"

Emily Prentiss loved Spencer Reid. She'd been in emotional pain for him from the moment she'd gotten that first phone call from Mexico. She'd put her credibility, and maybe her career, on the line for him in Mexico, and again, by going to the judge to plead for his exoneration. She'd even concluded herself that his information had been leaked by someone within the FBI.

But then they'd learned about the corrupt guard, Wilkins, lover to Cat Adams, saboteur of Reid's status in prison, conveyor of information to Cat about Reid's experience at Milburn. She'd thought maybe they had their mole, except that Wilkins wasn't really one of theirs. Cat had obviously had some personal information on Reid, but nothing that couldn't have been found through social media.

Except that Emily knew Reid completely eschewed social media. And, even if he didn't, there was no way he would have written about his experience with Maeve Donovan.

Derek Morgan, or his wife Savannah, or even their extended families, might have written about Reid being godfather to their son. That wouldn't have been in Reid's personnel file, nor would the name of Morgan's child. But it would have been in Morgan's. Hank had been born before Derek's resignation from the BAU. Cat's being tripped up on the name told them only that she'd not had someone in Morgan's file.

Reid's file, on the other hand, would have contained information about his mother and father. And it would have contained information about Maeve, if only because he, an FBI agent, had been a material witness to her murder. As had all of the rest.

Reid interpreted the long pause as doubt.

"You aren't, are you? You think there are other explanations for what Cat Adams knew about me."

Sounding more disappointed than accusatory.

Emily equivocated. "I think there's enough question about it that I've encouraged you in your search. Can't that be enough for now?"

Reid's smile reflected his sadness, for this last remaining hurdle in the repair of their friendship. He missed its wholeness, and longed for the day it would come.

"I guess it will have to be."

* * *

"Hey, Spence, have you already seen this?" JJ held out a copy of an invoice. "It's from that last case, before you went to Houston. They must have made a separate copy for your file, because you checked out early."

He took it from her, scanning it quickly. "It's an emailed receipt. Looks like it was copied to me as well as to the finance office."

"I used to handle all of that stuff for the team, when I was the liaison. You know, finding the hotels, taking care of checking in and checking out. I'm actually not sure who does it now. I guess I've just taken it for granted."

He smiled at her. "Like I did, when you were doing it. I never even realized. Never even thought about it, for that matter."

She grinned. "You can thank me for all of those extra coffee pods you always found in your room."

"Really? Wow….well, then, thanks!"

"You're welcome. Now, what else does this tell us?"

He worked through it aloud. "It tells us that someone in the finance office knew I'd left the case early. But why would that matter to them?"

"It wouldn't, necessarily, apart from the numbers crunching. But it _would_ tell the wrong someone that you'd separated yourself from the pack. That you were …."

"Vulnerable. But that's opportunistic. It would fit more with Scratch, than with Cat. I mean, think about it. He took advantage of Hotch being alone the night we captured him, he took advantage of Tara's brother being alone when he tried to torture her about him. But Cat is specific. Cat only hates _me_. She would only want to know if it was me who was alone."

"Okay, so maybe she was paying someone to surveil you. Maybe it was both specific to you, and opportunistic to the situation. The question is, who? Someone in finance?"

Incredulity in her tone, and Reid agreed with her. But he had another idea.

"What if she'd somehow had my emails surveilled? What if she'd found out that I'd left the case early? She would have assumed that meant I was traveling elsewhere. What if she'd had someone search my credit card for an airline charge? What if she'd found my name on the flight roster?"

"That's a lot of 'what-ifs', Spence."

"But all related. It's pretty obvious she had someone working with her who knew how to hack into supposedly encrypted and protected information."

"Her own Garcia."

"Exactly. And they would have had to know how to get into either the finance office records or their emails, because until I checked out early, it was all FBI business."

JJ tried to follow the logic. "Okay, so assuming she figured out you were traveling to Houston, she had to get word to Lyndsey to follow you from there."

She wanted to go there with him, but there was that one big obstacle.

"But, Spence, she was in _prison_. I was barely allowed any contact with you at Milburn. How could Cat have accomplished all of this from prison? Granted, she had Wilkins working for her, but how could _he_ have gotten the information to pass on?"

His brain had leapt several steps beyond hers. "Scratch. It can't be a coincidence that he went after the rest of you on the same day that we bested Cat. He had to have been following the case, monitoring us somehow. _He_ got the information to Wilkins, who did the rest at Cat's bidding."

"But how? He was on the run. Do you think he just hacked the FBI computer system? Wouldn't Garcia have seen that? She's been looking for signs of entry since it happened."

JJ watched as the expression on his face changed, and she nearly cried. There appeared, for the first time in nearly half a year, that oh, so familiar look of discovery, of excitement at having solved a puzzle. He looked confident, and assured, and so like the best friend she'd almost lost to his life circumstance.

 _Please, God, let this be another step back to himself._

"Garcia has been looking for external hackers into the FBI computer system. She hasn't been looking for someone with legitimate access."

"But she has! She's given us a list of everyone in the Bureau who's accessed your records in the past three years."

"Not in the _Bureau_. Someone within the government intelligence network. Think about it. Who knew about Peter Lewis before we did?"

"The NSA."

"Exactly. They would have hired him out of Harvard, but he was too psychiatrically unstable, to they settled for keeping close tabs on him."

JJ remembered. "But they couldn't acknowledge what they were doing, because it would amount to spying on an American citizen. But…Spence, are you saying someone from the NSA broke into your file?"

 _Not only am I saying it, but I'm pretty sure I know who it was._ But he wouldn't accuse, until he was certain.

"They wouldn't have had to break in. I'm a government employee. Any employment-related information would be open to them."

"So, they could have known about your mother's address changing, and that she'd moved in with you. And they'd have known about Maeve."

He nodded. "They couldn't have known I was Hank's godfather, but Cat could tell that I was close with Morgan. If they could get into _my_ file, they could get into _his_."

"Or mine." JJ looked alarmed. The FBI had withdrawn protective details for each of them. "Should I be worried?"

He tried to assure her, though not fully convinced himself.

"When he could, Scratch went after the whole team. I think he's done trying to pick us off one at a time. No, it was only Cat making use of the information. And I'm the only one she hates."

Something niggled at him just then. Cat did hate him, it was true. But she'd also twice aimed a portion of her wrath at JJ.

 _She sees her as an obstacle. Or maybe as a rival._

Realizing he was still using the present tense.

 _Maybe I_ should _be using it. Cat's in prison, not dead. And she managed to wreak havoc on my life from there before. Until we solve this puzzle, there's no reason to believe she can't do it again. There's got to be another 'Wilkins' out there for her._

Which resurrected a thought he'd had several weeks ago.

 _She knew about what I'd done to the drugs. Maybe Wilkins told her that he suspected I was responsible. But she seemed so certain. And yet, I've never told anyone. I only wrote it into my journal._

Which had disappeared. He'd been looking for it among his things, the night he'd had his first flashback. The powerful event had stolen everything else from his mind, and he'd not gotten back to it. Not until now.

"My journal." Thinking aloud once again.

JJ hadn't been privy to his internal conversation. "The one you copied Henry's picture into?"

As she'd begged him to do, to remind him of why he needed to hang on.

"Yes. There were….there were things I wrote in there that I've never told anyone. But Cat seemed to know about them."

"How? Where is the journal now?"

"I don't know. It wasn't with my things, when they released me. The last I saw of it was when one of the other guards confiscated it."

"Why would he do that? I thought your therapy group had advised you to keep it."

"They did, and that's what I told the guard. But he said it was contraband, and he took it."

JJ narrowed her gaze. "Do you think he was in on it, too? Working for Cat?"

He shrugged. "Or Wilkins. Maybe the other guard gave it to Wilkins, who passed the information on to Cat."

"Or maybe we should have Pen look into that other guard."

He conceded the point. "It wouldn't hurt."

"All right, I'll add it to the 'to do' list, along with hunting for an NSA footprint. Right after I take care of my most immediate 'to do', which involves caffeine."

He smiled as she grabbed her mug, excited at their progress, and the fact that they'd made it together. It felt good in so many ways. Good enough to celebrate, so he grabbed his own mug and joined her.

"Tough night?"

"Early morning. Mikey's going through some sort of adjustment to his sleep schedule. He gave up his morning nap, and it's thrown everything off. So, while he adjusts, he's up at five, looking for breakfast."

"Ouch." Pouring for both of them.

"Sure you're not up for a sleepover, say, on Saturday?"

He chuckled as he amended his coffee with one packet of sugar. Then he tasted it, and added another half-packet, to JJ's great, and secret, delight.

Reid declined the sleepover offer. "Not after what you just told me. But we're still on for brunch, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes, I wouldn't miss this brunch for anything! I'm looking forward to meeting Clare. She's got to be pretty special if she's impressed you."

He smiled, almost to himself. "She does really important work, and she's very dedicated to righting the wrongs that have been done."

 _And she's easy to talk to, and interesting, and intelligent, and….and fun. She's fun._

JJ couldn't suppress a grin, fully aware he'd been conducting an internal conversation, and just that well-attuned to him that she could guess what it had been.

 _And she's captured the heart of my very best friend. Oh, Spence, if this is real, I'm so happy for you! I've prayed for this._

And maybe, if she was honest with herself, she was a little bit afraid if it, too.


	32. Chapter 32

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 32**_

He'd expected to be nervous, after having obsessed on it for a few weeks, but as the time approached, he found that he wasn't. Not that he was so sure how Clare and JJ would receive each other, although he had his suspicions. No, it was more that he felt like he could accept the outcome, either way.

His only other real relationship had been with Maeve Donovan, even if others might not have considered it much of a relationship. He had, after all, not met her until only minutes before the end of her life. But, he would argue, their letters and phone calls had plumbed more depths than many more modern means of communication.

He hadn't been willing to share _that_ relationship. In fact, he'd purposely kept it from JJ and Morgan, his two closest friends, and he still often argued with himself about why.

 _Maybe you knew how weird it was, and you didn't want to hear about it from Morgan. Or maybe you didn't want them to see how awkward you felt about the whole thing._

Or maybe he'd just wanted something that was 'his'. He'd been so young when he'd started with the BAU. So naïve, so unsophisticated. So inexperienced with friendship. He'd become infatuated with the idea that he could actually tell some of his thoughts to a willing audience, that someone might actually care about him enough to listen. He'd begun to share things with them, things he sometimes regretted…..hopes, fears….he'd even shared his mother with them.

But then he'd found something he knew he couldn't share. Something of which he'd been too ashamed, something that had marked him as weak, as a failure, as someone unworthy of their friendship. And he'd learned to withhold. Just as he'd been withholding that much more recent failure of character, that was also unworthy of their friendship.

And he'd withheld Maeve.

 _Did I think of her the same way? As a failure? Or was I just afraid they would see the uniqueness of our relationship as a failure?_

He'd certainly failed _her_ , in the end. But his friends hadn't failed him. They'd been there, almost daily, reaching out to him, until he'd finally reached back. No judgment, no reproach. Just love, and support.

This time was different. This time, he had no fear of failure. JJ had seen him at his worst, his absolute worst. She'd seen him in a murderous rage, about to wantonly take the life of another human being. And still, she loved him.

 _If that's not the test of a relationship, I don't know what is._

That kind of love, and acceptance, melded with the seasoning that comes with the passage of years, and the accumulation of experiences, and the fact of having emerged from those experiences as a survivor, even if not whole, had slowly accomplished a transformation within Spencer Reid. Even the very fact of having faced his PTSD without being consumed by it had been a part of the process.

He now held within him a new and deepening sense of serenity, a growing acceptance of himself as he was, and not just how he aspired to be. An awareness that, just maybe, life could be lived in tumult without degrading the person within. It was what Sandy Jareau had been trying to tell him, that it was possible to incorporate those aspects of himself that fallen short, those things of which he could never be proud, and still not let go of his aspirations. That, in fact, the relationships he'd cultivated along the way virtually demanded it.

He wasn't all the way there and suspected he never would be. There were things he'd barely verbalized to himself, let alone shared with someone else, even someone of whose love he was assured. But that reticence was just part of what he would have to learn to incorporate. The adult version of Spencer Reid shared that in common with his childhood version. Maybe that meant it was part of his essence. If so, he hoped someone else could find a way to love him in spite of it.

And so, as he accomplished his morning ablutions, he found himself curious about how the day would unfold, but not apprehensive. JJ and Clare would either take to one another, or not. He was confident enough in how they felt about him, that he knew neither would demand he live a life without the other.

* * *

"There are a lot of kids here, aren't there?"

Clare had to practically shout to be heard above the din.

"It's because of the pancakes."

She showed her surprise. "What can be so special about pancakes?"

He smiled knowingly. "You'll see." Spying his friends coming through the doorway, Reid stood and waved. Two blonde bullets sped toward him, the smaller held back protectively by the taller, to let a waiter through. Soon enough, they zeroed in on their target.

"Unca Pence!" Mikey was swept up into the arms of his crouching godfather.

"Hi, Uncle Spence!"

"Hi, Henry! Mikey, you're squishing me!" Met with peals of toddler laughter.

JJ and Will weren't far behind. "Spencer." Will shook hands with his wife's best friend.

"Hi Spence." JJ gave him a peck on the cheek and a one-handed hug with which she managed to magically come away with Mikey. Then she turned to the woman standing by the side of the table. Shifting her son, she extended a hand.

"You must be Clare. I'm Jennifer. Well, JJ. It's nice to meet you."

It might have been lost on the two younger males, but JJ was certain the two older ones would be watching her every reaction. So she did her best to hide her microexpressions, and not to look like she was sizing up her best friend's girlfriend, just as she did precisely that.

The first thing she noticed were the eyes. They were such a striking green, drawn out by the deep copper color of Clare's blouse. Her hair was tousled to just below her chin, the tips highlighting the dark blonde of the rest, making JJ jealous. Both of her jobs….motherhood, and the BAU…..demanded that she either cut her own hair short or be able to pull it back. The middle ground of hair styling had become lost to her. But it definitely looked good on Clare.

The Innocence Project attorney was also skilled at masking her expressions, if not her microexpressions. She smiled as she took JJ's proffered hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too. Your boys are so cute!"

"Thanks. This is Michael," indicating the youngster in her arms, "and this is his big brother, Henry."

Clare smiled at Michael, whose body language told her not to touch him. Henry, however, looked approachable. Clare put out her hand, and the young blonde took it.

"I'm happy to know you, Henry. Your Uncle Spence has told me so much about you."

Henry shook her hand so solemnly that the adults had to suppress a laugh, and Reid wondered what conversation had taken place before the momentous meeting. He nudged his elder godson.

"You okay, Henry?"

The boy spared him a glance. "Yeah." Then he turned to the new woman in his godfather's life and spoke the words he'd practiced. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Ryan."

Clare bent to him again. "Do you think it would be all right if you just called me Clare? That's what all of my _other_ friends call me."

Henry looked to his parents for permission, and JJ gave him a nod. The spell of interacting with a stranger was immediately broken, and Henry grinned.

"Sure! Hi, Clare!"

Reid completed the introduction between Clare and Will, as the boys took their seats. When the adults joined them, Henry happily showed Mikey something on the menu.

"See? I told you."

"Choklat! Mommy, choklat!"

"This is the only time we're allowed to have it for breakfast," advised his more experienced older brother.

Clare leaned over to see, as there was nothing chocolate on the menu she'd been handed.

"Wait…..did you say…..oh, my gosh! Chocolate chip pancakes! I used to love those!"

Henry warned her. "They're only for kids."

"Really? Oh, man." Making a pouty face, which prompted a gallant gesture from her third grade hero.

"I can give you some of mine."

Mikey was busy coloring, but every other set of brows around the table went up, none higher than those of the bemused godfather.

 _Seriously? Am I so bad at this that I have to compete with a not-quite-nine-year-old?_

Clare was gracious enough to accept the sincere offer.

"Just a bite. I like to savor things."

* * *

Breakfast proceeded with small talk, during which JJ and Clare discovered that the only thing they had in common was Spencer Reid. JJ was from a small farm town, Clare from a busy suburb of New York City. JJ had left home for college, and never looked back, while Clare had been close enough to come home every weekend. Both had gone to school on scholarships, but JJ's had been athletic, and Clare's academic. Clare had come from a family of many brothers, while JJ had lived as an only child.

Reid took notice when JJ phrased her childhood family situation exactly that way, that she'd 'lived as an only child'. She obviously wasn't about to share her full life circumstance with Clare. But he couldn't quite tell if she'd made the decision because of something about Clare, or because it just wasn't a socially acceptable thing to do when meeting someone for the first time.

When the chocolate chip pancakes arrived, Henry dutifully cut a wedge from one of his, and offered it to Clare. She wasn't quite sure if she should take it from him…..he had, after all, been excited at the prospect of having them, and she didn't want to shortchange him…but something in his demeanor guided her response. She accepted it.

"Oh, thank you, Henry!" She lifted the morsel to her mouth, and didn't have to feign her delight. Clare had never quite lost her childhood sweet tooth. She closed her eyes in bliss.

"Ah, so good!"

Pride competed with conscience in Henry LaMontagne. He'd made his uncle's girlfriend happy. But did that mean he had to offer her another piece? After an almost comical period of hesitation, chivalry won out.

"Do you want some more?" _Please say no, please say no, please say…_

She smiled at his very obvious dilemma. "Thanks, but no. All I needed was one bite. I'm going to remember it all day."

So was Henry, or at least until lunch. He dug into the rest, and taught his brother how to eat around a single chocolate chip, and then dip it into the whipped cream.

"It's the best!"

"Yeah, the best!" said Little Sir Echo.

Shortly afterward, Will pushed back his chair, and spoke in his thickest New Orleans drawl.

"Well, I'd better get Henry to soccer. Nice to meet you, Clare. Spencer. See you at home, Cher?"

JJ helped clean both boys up and then bid the men in her family adieu, just as Reid's phone vibrated in his pocket. He frowned as he looked at the screen.

"It's about my mother. I've got to take it." Stepping outside the noisy restaurant to take the call, and leaving the two women alone at the table.

"Your boys are delightful. Spencer is so lucky to have them close by. I have a bunch of nephews and one lonesome niece, but they're all back in New York. I miss seeing them."

"Spence is great with them. He's a natural. I know he wants kids of his own one day."

 _Ouch. Where did that come from? Don't be so pushy, JJ_. Annoyed with herself.

"He'd be a great dad," agreed Clare, noncommittally.

There followed an awkward silence

"So," said JJ.

"So," said Clare.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then both relaxed into a smile.

"He wanted me to meet you." JJ took the lead.

It wasn't news to Clare. "How do I stack up?"

JJ made a puzzled face. "What does that mean?"

"How do I stack up to the others?"

"Clare, there haven't been….." Cutting herself off, realizing it was yet another story that wasn't hers to tell. But also aware that she'd already said too much. So she continued.

"He's been hurt before, through no fault of either of them. It was hard on him. _Really_ hard. And this past year….."

She still had no words for it, after all this time.

But Clare did. "I know. I mean….he hasn't shared much of the details, but I know how it can be. And I _have_ seen some of what it's done to him."

"You have?" Curious now.

Clare nodded, and explained about the night Reid had spoken to the mother of Luis Delgado.

"He couldn't finish, and he knew how critical it was, so he called me. I took care of it, but I was so worried about him that I went over there." She was quiet for a few seconds. "I've been doing this for a long time, but I've only met my clients as prisoners, you know? Still living that life. Some of them had PTSD, but I think a lot of them were still living through the actual trauma. Spencer is the first person I've met outside of that…..well, not completely, I guess, since we met _because_ of it….but I knew him first, and liked him, and found him amazing to work with…..and _then_ , I saw him go through it. And it hit me. Hard."

JJ understood all too well. "He's my best friend, Clare. He's been through so much, and there's a lot we've been through together. But this…." Shaking her head. "This was so prolonged, and it got more hideous every day, and I thought it would break him. I was so scared of it, and there was nothing I could do."

Clare smiled at her. "Then it's my privilege to tell you that you did a lot for him, even if you didn't realize it. Something about a visit? And a drawing?"

JJ didn't know what to feel. Pleased, to hear that her gestures had been so important to someone she loved? Or jealous, that her acts of love had been shared with someone she'd only met an hour ago?

"It wasn't enough. Not for me, anyway. I didn't get him out of there, and that was all that mattered to me. Every day it lasted was a trauma of its own."

Clare had heard it before, from the families of her clients. Hearing it from JJ, about Spencer, gave her a better glimpse into the depth and nature of their relationship than anything that had come before, and she felt a need to respond to it.

"Spencer has told me before how lucky he feels that you've made him a member of your family. I can see why."

JJ's smile was appreciative. "It was purely selfish on my part. Spence is a great guy. I wanted Henry, and then Michael, to have him in their lives."

Clare nodded knowingly. "Well, I think his chivalry has rubbed off on Henry."

"That, and so much more." Thinking back to the day she'd asked Reid to be godfather to her son, after he'd effectively been rejected by his own father for the second time in his life. "He's been through a lot, Clare. He's sensitive, but not about himself. He just cares a lot…about everyone. It makes him vulnerable."

Both women were acutely aware of the subtext to their conversation. Jennifer Jareau was not about to allow someone to bring even more pain into the life of her best friend. But she also fervently wished that there was someone who would bring him happiness, and she hoped she was speaking with that someone. Clare accepted the gauntlet.

"I guess I've seen that. But I've also seen some pretty incredible strength. I mean, he was in the middle of a flashback, and he thought to call me, because he was worried about the person on the other end of the phone! I can't tell you how much that moved me."

That decided it. Coming into this encounter, JJ had been apprehensive, not knowing what to expect. She respected her best friend enough to know that he wouldn't embark on a relationship based in infatuation. She trusted that there was some depth to it, and that Clare would respect and be worthy of that depth. But she hadn't _known_ , not until now. Not until she'd learned that Clare had seen Spence in the throes of a flashback, and not been frightened away. Not until she'd known that Clare had seen the strength in his core, the same strength _she'd_ known for better than a decade.

Mary Clare Ryan had risen to the occasion. She'd captured the attention of Spencer Reid, charmed the pants off Henry LaMontagne, and, just now, won the approval of Jennifer Jareau. JJ was accustomed to feeling protective of her best friend, to looking out for him, to drawing him out of himself when necessary, to encouraging him, to making sure he felt included. She was not, however, accustomed to having an ally in these endeavors. But now, it seemed, she did.

"I'll tell you what. Spence is so much better than he was a few months ago, but he's not out of the woods yet." Not wanting to frighten Clare with the whole truth, that he would _never_ be 'out of the woods'. "So, if something happens, and you're not sure what to do, just call me, okay?"

She asked for Clare's number, and put it into her phone.

"The same goes for me," said Clare. "I'm a firm believer that we need to embrace one another as we really are. That means that, once I'm in your camp, I'm there for good, no matter the ups and downs. And, in case it's not already clear, I'm definitely in Spencer's camp."

JJ grinned. "It's nice to have company."

Clare was still putting JJ's number into her phone when Reid came back to the table.

"Trouble?" asked JJ, reading the look on his face.

"Mom's refusing her meds. They put her on the phone, so I could try to talk her into it, but I think I'm going to have to go out there."

He started to apologize to Clare for derailing their plans to walk the Mall, and offered to bring her home before going to Mountain Laurel, but she would have none of it.

"We're pretty near there now, aren't we? Let's just go together, and you can talk to your mom, and we'll figure out the rest of the day after that. Who knows, maybe I can come up with a good lawyerly argument or two that will convince her."

Which earned her a grateful look from Spencer Reid, and a conspiratorial wink from Jennifer Jareau.

 _Welcome aboard._


	33. Chapter 33

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 33**_

"Your friends are really nice."

Clare's use of the plural gave Reid pause for a second, until he remembered that Will had been at the brunch, too.

"They are. I'm glad you liked them. I'm pretty sure they liked you." He threw her a look. "Especially Henry."

She laughed. "Oh, my gosh, he is so cute! So gallant, and polite."

"That was all for show. Although he really is a good kid. Empathetic. Wise, in his own way."

"A lot like his favorite uncle."

She'd caught him off guard, and he blushed. "Wish I could take credit, but that's all Henry."

 _And his mother._

"Well, what about Mikey then? He's a little imp."

Reid laughed. "JJ says she thinks he's counting on his cuteness. He's definitely different from his brother, but mostly he's just being two...oppositional and independent. If he thinks he can get away with something, he'll go for it."

"Autonomy versus shame and doubt."

He flashed her a look from the driver's seat. "You know Erickson?"

"Hey, I'm no slouch. I minored in psychology in college, and took a few more courses in law school."

"I guess that would help with your clients, wouldn't it?"

" _And_ the judge, _and_ the jury, and even opposing counsel, sometimes."

"Hmm. Makes sense. Guess I just hadn't thought about it."

"Applied psychology was a requirement. Of course, I didn't have much call to use the early childhood stuff, even if it felt like I kept running into a bunch of two-year olds."

Reid laughed. "Yes, I can see that. Mikey is kind of in his 'unsub-phase'. He seeks personal gratification, and will only stop if caught."

Now MJ was laughing as well. "Do you profile everyone you know?" _Have you profiled me?_

Reid quickly sobered up. "We have sort of an unwritten agreement, on the team, that we won't. I mean, we can't exactly turn it off, but we don't say anything out loud."

Remembering the one time he'd been enticed by Morgan and Emily to do precisely that….and been discovered by their target, the newly arrived David Rossi. The memory brought a pang of regret with it, not so much about having profiled Rossi, but at the memory of the two friendships that had once been so much a part of his daily life. Morgan's distance was geographical, but Emily's was emotional. He'd been able to close some of that emotional distance, but he was well aware of the gap that remained.

 _And I can't tell how much is from me, and how much is from her. Nor how much is just a part of her being my superior now._

Clare seemed to pick up on his moment of reverie, but mistook the reason for it. They had just passed a sign for Mountain Laurel.

"So I can wait in the car, if you like. I can catch up on email, or I've always got books on my phone to keep me busy."

"On your _phone_?"

She picked up on his tone. "Uh-oh. Have I just committed blasphemy?"

He smiled at her. "Of course not. I just prefer a real book. I find it harder to remember what I read on a screen."

"Really?"

He tapped his temple. "An eidetic memory works from images. There's something about the appearance of a page that helps me remember what was written on it. On a screen, especially if I have to scroll, it all blends together."

She thought about that for a moment. "Hmph. Come to think of it, I always did study better from my own notes. Never really got into the note-taking service. Do you supposed I was learning things eidetically?"

"Maybe. It's thought that many people can do it to one degree or another."

"But they don't all have an IQ of 187."

"Not as many."

"Okay, well, anyway, I don't want to be in the way when you're trying to help your mother, so I'll wait outside."

He couldn't quite be sure if she was simply being considerate, or if there was something about Diana and her conditions that Clare found off-putting. But he was going to have to figure it out later, because they'd just turned into the parking lot.

"They have a small waiting area inside, if you'd like. Or you can stay here. Any preference?"

"I'll stay here. But I'll have my phone, if you need to reach me."

He couldn't imagine how she would be able to help convince his mother to take her meds, but he appreciated the offer.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

"Take your time. It's your mother."

 _And you don't know how long you'll have her._

* * *

He found her in her room this time, virtually barricaded by a fortress of pillows and blankets.

"Mom? It's me, Spencer." He'd gotten into the habit of giving her his name each time he'd arrived, to spare both of them the pain of her having forgotten it.

She remembered him this day. "Spencer? Spencer! Help me! That woman is trying to poison me!"

He slowly approached the bed, but left her fortress in place.

"Do you mean your nurse, Mom? You know Ana, she's the weekend nurse. She wouldn't try to hurt you."

"That's what they tell _you,_ but I know better. They work for the government, I can tell. They use fingerprints to get at their poisons!"

He might not have acceded to it yet, but he knew that many modern devices used fingerprint identification to permit access. Even the newest version of his cell phone did, but he wasn't quite ready for that himself. Nevertheless, he realized his mother was referencing a common drug-dispensing process.

"Mom, _I_ work for the government, I've told you that. You aren't scared of _me_ , are you?"

The look on her face told him she wasn't so sure, but her answer was encouraging.

"You're my son. You wouldn't hurt me."

"Exactly. And I've made it a point to get to know each of your nurses, and I can vouch for them, as well. Can you trust me when I tell you they're only trying to help you?"

Confusion wiped away the apprehension from her face, but left her equally disturbed.

"But why? These pills aren't the ones Dr. Norman gave me. They're bigger, and they're _red_."

The last word delivered in a conspiratorial whisper.

"They changed some of your medications while you were in Houston, Mom. The old ones wouldn't work the same for you on the protocol."

Hearing the word come out of his mouth, he cringed. 'Protocol' sounded controlling, and that was the last thing Diana needed to think about her medications and caregivers.

"I mean, they gave you some new medicines to treat the dementia, and they don't mix so well with your old meds. So they changed to ones that work better together."

"But I was doing fine! Spencer, I don't understand why I couldn't stay where I was happy. Why did you make me leave there?"

She'd zeroed in on a major source of guilt, and he had to turn away for a moment, to regroup, and gather his thoughts.

 _I wish I could have left you there, Mom, but it wasn't an option. Oh, how I wish it had been!_

So much of their lives would have been different, if only...if only...

After a cleansing breath, he turned back, and sat at the edge of her bed. He moved the pillow and blanket that lay between them.

"Mom, it sounds like you don't remember, but you actually walked away from Bennington. Somehow, you made it all the way downtown, and into a casino. We're lucky that someone thought to call."

"I did?"

Still confused, still apprehensive.

"You did. I came out to see you, do you remember that? And I talked it over with Dr. Norman, and he agreed we should try the clinic in Houston, because they'd had some success in treating what you have. But then, you didn't seem to be getting any better, and I went down to Houston and brought you home, with me." He stared intently into her eyes. "Don't you remember any of that?"

She stared into his eyes as though searching for the right answer. Not finding it, she looked away, and tried to look into a memory that was rapidly spiraling away from her.

"I….I …. I remember Jennifer. I remember she came to see me."

 _Yes. Every day she could, while I was in prison._

But it sounded like maybe Diana had forgotten about _that_.

 _Small favors._

"Yes, she did, Mom. JJ came to see you. She helped me move you here, too. Do you remember that?"

He watched her comb her increasingly thin memory once again, and come up with nothing. Before she had to admit it, he spoke up.

"It's okay, it was a while ago."

Diana shook her head vigorously. "No, it's not all right! It will never be all right again! I can't remember anything!"

Afraid that Diana's shouting would draw the attention of the nurses, Reid brought his own voice to a whisper.

"Please, Mom, don't get upset. You're just having a bad day today. You used to have them sometimes, and then the next day would be better."

Reluctantly acknowledging to himself that there would soon come a bad day that was followed by another bad day, and another, and another.

"I did?"

"Yes. And I think your medicine helped you. What if I gave it to you today? Would you take it from _me_?"

Diana stared at him for a full minute, during which he could only wonder if she was weighing the risks and benefits of his being her son, versus his working for the FBI. But he'd wondered wrong. Diana had spent that minute flashing on a thousand images of her beloved son, finally settling on the image of a much younger Spencer, making a similar plea, nearly two decades earlier. She'd acquiesced that time, because his distress had somehow penetrated her paranoia. She responded to that younger image now.

"Are you asking me if I trust you?"

He almost didn't answer her, afraid of her reaction. But her response had a ring of clarity to it, and he clung to it.

"I guess I am. Or maybe I'm just asking if you _will_ trust me."

Diana reached out and touched his cheek, gently caressing it, and evoking memories of those fleeting moments of his boyhood when she'd done the same…..and of the moments when the contact _hadn't_ been so gentle.

"I love you, Spencer. And I will _always_ trust you."

Reid's eyes filled even as he tried to smile back at her.

 _You will trust me….for as long as you still know me. But the day will come when I won't be any different to you than all of the people you're afraid of._

The thought prompted another one, and then an impulsive decision.

 _If you still know me now, I'd like you to know someone else, too._

He knew it was much too early in their relationship for him to know how important Clare would be in the course of his life. But this could be his one chance to bring 'his girl' home to his mother, and he'd decided he should seize it.

"Actually, after you take your pills, there's…..there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Her name is Clare, and I've been working with her on a project. She's really nice, Mom. I think you'll like her."

A look of pleasant surprise covered Diana's face. "Spencer, have you met a girl?"

He smiled at the rapidity of her change in mood. I _f I'd known this was all it would take…_.

"Well, she's not exactly a girl, Mom. She's a woman. But…well….yes, I guess so. I don't know where it will go, but she's at least become a really good friend, and I'd really like it if the two of you could meet each other."

"Well, where is she?"

"First things first. Let me ask Ana to bring the medicines, okay? I'll take a look at them, and if they look right to me, I'll give them to you. Will you take them?"

"You're going to hold me hostage until I take that medicine aren't you?"

"Mom, I…"

"Relax, Spencer. I was only chiding you. I'll take my medicine, if I must. But then I want to meet the girl…. _woman_ ….who has captivated my son."

"Captivated?"

"I can see it, Spencer. A mother knows."

* * *

Clare startled when she felt the phone vibrate in her lap. She hadn't actually been napping, but her eyes had been closed as she attempted to picture what might have been going on inside Mountain Laurel.

Although separated by miles and circumstance, Clare still felt close with her family. Her mother was still a confidant, her brothers still her best friends, their growing families adored by her. She'd felt the loss of her father viscerally, and still sometimes still felt his absence the same way.

 _But at least I knew he loved me. I can't even imagine what it was like for Spencer, to be an only child, and to feel rejected by the man who was supposed to shepherd him into the rest of his life._

Between the desertion of his father, and the devastation of his mother, Reid had been functionally without a family.

 _Except the one I met today. It's pretty obvious that the boys adore him. He seems so comfortable with them. And with their mother._

She'd been extremely curious about meeting JJ. Reid had spoken of her so often, and in such glowing terms, that Clare had begun to wonder if there wasn't something more to their relationship, in spite of the woman's marriage. Now that they'd met, Clare still had trouble defining the relationship between the two.

 _They seem to genuinely have affection for one another, but neither acts like they're enamored. And yet, she is fiercely protective of him. More like a sister, even, than a best friend. Still, when he talks about her…it feels deeper._

Between the ill-defined relationship with his colleague and his precarious family history, not to mention his very recent personal history, Clare knew she should have had her guard up. Maybe she did.

 _But there's something about him. He should be a human train wreck, but he's not. He virtually raised himself, and yet managed to emerge as this compassionate, insightful person who has made a success of his life. If what he went through last year was his only misstep, he's a miracle. An intriguing miracle._

One that she found herself increasingly drawn to, in spite of the warning signs. She could almost hear her friends telling her he had too much baggage.

 _Don't we all? I think it's how you carry your baggage that should matter. And Spencer carries his well._

She'd just been wondering how he was managing with this particular baggage when her phone vibrated and invited her into it.

MOM WANTS TO MEET YOU. ARE YOU UP FOR IT? YOU CAN SAY 'NO', AND I'LL UNDERSTAND.

She hesitated only a second before responding.

ON MY WAY.

 _In for a suitcase, in for a trunk._


	34. Chapter 34

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 34**_

He met her in the reception area, planning to escort her through the halls to Diana's room. As he saw her approaching the door though, he had a moment of doubt.

 _What if it blows up? What if this is all she ever knows of my family?_

But his practical side took control of the situation, just as it had a few minutes ago. There were no guarantees in life, and especially not in the life of Diana Reid. There might not be any better days than this one. He had to go for it.

Clare was smiling at him as she approached the desk.

"Hi." Taking a moment to look him over. "You all right?"

"She took her meds, and she's oriented. So, yes, I'm all right."

"Ah. The low bar. I'm sorry, Spencer. But I'm happy she wanted to meet me."

"Um….it might have been my idea. But, yes, once I suggested it, she began to insist."

It caught her off guard, the idea that he'd wanted his mother to meet her. She anticipated the reactions of her friends, should she share it with them.

 _They'll think it was too soon, too presumptuous. Honestly, if this was a normal situation, I'd agree with them. But he knows his days with his mother are fleeting. Neither of us know where we're going with each other, but meeting his mother is hardly the same as making a commitment._

"Well, I'm happy to meet her, then." Following him down the hallway, a half-step behind.

He turned partially to her. "I can't predict how she'll react."

"Understood."

"She might not make any sense. Or she might even be hostile."

Clare stopped moving, prompting Reid to do so as well.

"Spencer, I know your mother is ill. Obviously, that's why she's here. I won't take anything personally."

 _Lord knows, I've had enough mentally ill clients._

But she didn't think he would enjoy hearing her putting his mother in the same company.

"All right. I just wanted to make sure you were prepared."

 _Because one of us probably should be._

They'd passed through several hallways, and now approached Diana's room. Reid stopped at the doorway, looking from Clare to his mother. He knocked again, to get Diana's attention, relieved that her pillow fortress hadn't been reconstructed.

"Hi, Mom. It's Spencer again. I brought a friend this time. Do you remember me telling you about Clare?" _Ten minutes ago._

The young attorney stepped into the room after Reid.

"Hello, Mrs. Reid. I'm Clare. Well, Mary Clare. Ryan. They call me 'MC' for short."

Clare studied Diana for some semblance of Spencer.

 _She's tall, I think. Even sitting in bed, I can tell that. But there's also something about her eyes, and her mouth, even if..._

Simultaneously, Diana studied Clare. Both younger people tried, without success, to read the older woman's expression. Clare was taken aback by the obvious scowl on Diana's face, but Spencer knew enough to look only at his mother's eyes. What he saw there touched him deeply.

 _She's wary, but not afraid. She's worried about me. But she's also pleading. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was praying._

If so, he knew what the prayer would be. According to his best friend, Diana had done the same with JJ. She'd wanted to secure a family for her son, so soon to be left all alone in the world.

" _She probably would have made me promise, if I hadn't already been in the middle of telling her that you'll always be a part of my family, Spence. I meant that, when I told her, and, no, she didn't have to ask me. You're family because we love each other. That will always be true."_

He knew his mother would have taken some comfort in that, because he had, too. Not that he'd needed to be told. It was a mutual thing, family. But what he saw in his mother's eyes now was a longing of another kind.

 _She wants me to have a family of my own. One that I start, grown out of love._ He smiled to himself. _So do I, Mom. I'm just sorry to think that you'll never know them._

Once upon a time, the idea of having a family of his own, biological children of his own, hadn't even been a pipe dream. Even if he'd thought himself capable of a relationship….and he hadn't….he'd been worried about the genetics of it. But two things had conspired to change his mind about the latter. Firstly, he'd made it into his mid thirties without showing signs of schizophrenia, so it was less likely he'd pass it on to any offspring. But, and perhaps more importantly, he'd matured. The mature version of Spencer Reid had been able to see past the illness and into the person.

 _Actually, it's more like I regained the ability to do that. I think I knew it once, as a young boy. I loved her. I felt protective of her. And then…..then, I fell prey to the need to fit in, and I became embarrassed by her. Fearful of her, at times. But mostly embarrassed. In our private moments, I pitied her. But, thank God, I grew up. She hates to be pitied, especially when she's aware of what it's doing to her. She fights though it. And I was finally able to see that. And I began to admire her. Not just a son's obligate admiration, but a true, mature respect for the battles she's fought, and the very fact that she's been willing to continue to fight them._

He'd also been humbled by the sacrifices she'd made for him, well into his adulthood.

 _How could I ever be afraid of passing along something like that?_

Diana's dementia diagnosis had given him pause once again. It still did, if he was honest with himself. He couldn't know, at his age, whether it might also happen to him. He could only know that it was suspected her first diagnosis served as a predisposition to the second. So, if he'd escaped the first, maybe he'd escaped the last.

 _The last. The last thing that will happen to her. The last thing that will mark her life. I wish I could make something else be that 'last thing', Mom! I wish I could make it something happy. Something that tells you I'll be okay. Something that points toward a bright future. Something like a family._

But _this_ moment was about meeting, not about starting a family. With effort, Reid brought himself back to the moment, cognizant of the fact that his reverie had been about having a family, but not about the person he might have that family with.

 _Does it work that way? Aren't we supposed to want the person first, and the family next?_

He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd almost missed Diana's response to Clare.

"Mary Clare. What an interesting name. Did you know that 'Clair' was considered a masculine name in medieval times?"

Clare smiled. "That makes sense, then. I have four brothers. Mom told me my name was supposed to be 'Francis', but then I surprised her by being a girl."

When Diana nodded knowingly, Reid was confused. "How does that make sense?"

His mother knew. "Clare was the soulmate of Francis of Assisi."

Her son's brows went up. "How do you know that?" Diana had eschewed anything even vaguely religious during his childhood.

"To be a good teacher of medieval literature, I had to also be a good student of medieval history."

Reid nodded, smiling. "You were never a good teacher of medieval literature, Mom. You were a _great_ teacher."

Diana directed her responsive smile toward Clare. "Don't listen to him." Then, turning her gaze back to her son, she added, "I was an _outstanding_ teacher."

Reid laughed outright. "Mom, did you just make a joke?"

Clare's face reflected her bemusement as she looked back and forth between mother and son.

 _I'm so glad I got to see this. When he told me about her, I formed such a different picture. But it makes sense, now. They love each other, the best way each of them knows how._

She spoke aloud to Diana. "I'll bet you were wonderful. I wish I could have had you in college. I only got to take American Lit, and it wasn't nearly as romantic as I'd hoped."

Diana sobered quickly, now that they were in familiar territory.

"American literature hasn't yet come of age. Give it time. Most modern authors don't understand the true nature of romance."

Clare was intrigued now. "Which is?"

"Nobility. Sacrifice. Heroism. Stong values. True romance literature involves a quest, which is not necessarily for the heart of another."

"You mean, they fall in love with one another because of the quest?"

"Because of the characteristics revealed by the quest, yes." Diana turned to her son. "She's very astute, Spencer."

It was his turn to look his bemusement at the women in the room.

"Indeed she is."

* * *

In the end, there had been nothing momentous about the meeting of Diana and Clare…which was, ironically, momentous in itself. But despite the pedestrian nature of it, Reid felt like some sort of barrier had fallen.

 _I guess because I just merged one part of my life with another._

Not that he had been looking for Diana's approval, but he sensed he had it anyway. He'd long since realized that her reactions could be unpredictable, and unsustained, driven by unreality as much as reality. But she'd seemed to approve of Clare, and whether she would remember it tomorrow or not, _he_ would.

He'd left Clare rather abruptly, considering the nature of their day together. It hadn't exactly gone as planned, with the necessary detour to Mountain Laurel, and he hadn't quite been able to recoup enough to come up with a new idea for the rest of the day. So they'd said their goodbyes in the early afternoon, and Reid had gone back to his apartment alone, to ruminate. To his great surprise, he felt himself relaxing….really relaxing….into his favorite reading chair, for the first time in nearly a year.

 _I feel like I'm floating. Like there's nothing weighing me down. Nothing picking me apart._

Not even himself. In retrospect, it seemed obvious, though he hadn't realized it in process. But, not only had he spent the day decimating the walls within his personal life, he'd also allowed his personal armor to be penetrated. For, in introducing the three most important women in his life to each other, he'd opened himself to them, allowed them to see him through each other's eyes. He'd allowed himself to be flayed in a way that would have been anathema to him, just a short time ago. Now that he'd been opened up, and not found wanting, maybe it would be safe to rediscover the person within.

 _Maybe I can become whole again. Maybe._

There were still relationships to mend, still resentments to conquer. And he was too mature, and too experienced, not to know that wholeness and peace were transient at best. But he was feeling magnanimous just now.

 _Maybe I can forgive, one more time. Maybe._

* * *

He'd thought about calling JJ, about casually asking what she'd thought of Clare. But he knew he would be found out all too quickly, because JJ would know there was nothing casual about it. Besides, the newly integrated Spencer Reid didn't want to risk disintegration again so soon.

So he'd arrived to the BAU this morning still wondering. Well, almost. There had been that text.

SHE'S LOVELY. HOW DID IT GO WITH YOUR MOM?

Even though he'd purposely arranged their meeting, and despite his curiosity, it felt strange to discuss his girlfriend with his best friend. So he'd only responded to the question.

OKAY. I GOT HER TO TAKE HER MEDS.

As he unloaded his messenger bag at his desk, JJ entered the bullpen and approached her desk.

"Hey. Did you have a good weekend?"

As though she'd forgotten she'd spent part of hers with him. Which prompted him to ask about her own.

"Oh, it was fine, until it wasn't. Will got called in Saturday afternoon, and he hasn't been home since."

"Really? What's going on?"

JJ grabbed both of their mugs, planning a trip to the coffee bay.

"Apparently he could tell me, but then he'd have to kill me. Ever since he went on that DHS training two years ago, I've been hearing that."

Reid knew better than to remind her that she'd put Will in the same position, not so many years ago.

 _Another sign that I'm finding value in my life._

He accompanied her, so he could amend his own coffee.

"So…do you know when he'll be back?"

"Nope. I had to get Henry to school and Michael to Karen's, and it looks like I'll have to do the reverse tonight. Unless I ask Mom."

"I can get one of them. Well, I guess it would have to be Henry." He didn't have a car seat for Michael.

She gave him a tight smile as she poured into each mug. "Thanks, Spence, but it will probably be fine. As long as we don't get called out."

He thanked her for the pour. "I'm kind of hoping we don't get called out, too. I feel like we're close on both Scratch and the mole."

JJ was too distracted to notice Reid emptying three packets of sugar into his mug.

"Do we have Emily on board with this? Is she thinking like we are?"

He hadn't yet run his suspicions by their unit chief, not wanting to risk another confrontation.

"I guess I have to find out, don't I?"

JJ put a hand on his back as they returned to their desks.

"She's our friend, Spence. I know you know that."

"I do."

"So go. Talk to her. Want me to come with you?"

The newly integrated, magnanimous Spencer Reid shouted down his more resentful alter ego.

"No, that's all right. I'll do it."


	35. Chapter 35

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 35**_

Emily looked up sharply at the sound of a knock on her door.

"Oh, hi! What's up? Do we have a case?"

Although any cases should have come through her first.

Reid chose a cryptic response.

"Maybe." Then, without understanding why, he decided to temper it. "Maybe two."

 _Am I afraid to anger her? Really? I mean, what more have I got to lose?_

But the center of him knew. He still valued her friendship. He still harbored some resentment, despite his best efforts to prove it illogical. But he still valued her friendship. He valued _her._ It would have been painful enough to have been left to languish in Milburn by some unnamed FBI bureaucrat. But it had been excruciatingly painful to have been left there by his friend, even if his logical mind could agree that she'd had no practical choice to do otherwise.

For all the progress he'd made…..and he _had_ made progress, cognitively at least….he didn't quite trust himself emotionally. So he'd chosen to dilute his discussion of his own case with that of another.

Emily was too good a profiler not to see the turmoil within her old friend, and she'd correctly surmised the reason for it. She'd been suffering some continued turmoil herself, about the same thing. Not quite sure she was ready for the conversation, she pushed ahead anyway. The ambassador's daughter knew when it was time to confront the inevitable.

"Two? Okay, tell me about them."

He started with the less challenging.

"You know that I've been working with the Innocence Project, right? Well, I think I might have found something." He explained what he'd been doing, profiling and reverse-profiling cases, looking for likely wrongful incarcerations. "At first it was a slow process. I couldn't really focus all that well. But I developed a rhythm….I think it actually helped me get back my profiling skills after my time…'away'." Pausing, struck just as much as Emily was by his use of the euphemism. "Anyway, I've been moving much more quickly, and I've probably reviewed hundreds of cases without finding a likely candidate. But this one….not only do I think he's innocent, I think it's got the characteristics of a serial."

Emily's raised brows reflected her interest, so he explained his reasoning, all of which seemed sound to the unit chief. Reid concluded with a request.

"And I'd like permission to have Garcia search for similars."

"Of course. In fact, I can convene the team…"

"No. Let me look into it a little more before we take up anyone else's time."

Not quite sure why he was being so possessive of the case, except that it connected back to the Project. And that, at least for the time being, was his, and his alone.

"All right, whatever you want. So… you said there were two cases? What's the other one?"

Reid took a breath. It was time, and he felt ready. As he spoke, he drilled her eyes with his.

"Mine. The way I was set up. The mole."

She couldn't look away, so powerful was his gaze.

"You still want to pursue the idea that we have a mole."

Reid shook his head. "No, not the _idea_. We _do_ have a mole. I want to pursue _him_."

"Him. So you have an idea who our mole is?"

She might have been humoring him, but her phrasing kindled a bit of hope in Reid.

"Does that mean you believe me?"

Emily broke eye contact long enough to regroup.

"Spencer, I _want_ to believe you. I want to believe there's some way to make sense of everything that happened. But I can tell you that the brass think they've _already_ made sense of it. They're laying all of the blame at the feet of Cat Adams."

Reid flashed back on the one, brief meeting to which he'd been summoned.

"I don't think so."

"What?" Surprised to be challenged on this particular item.

"I think they knew they had a mole. That's why they let me go on not notifying the Bureau about my travel."

It had been his only real transgression, but it might have served as an adequate excuse, if they'd been inclined to get rid of him.

Emily Prentiss felt torn. If he was right, it would mean that she'd missed something else. But it would also mean that there was still something she could do to help him. It would mean that she could stop _being_ helpless, and that _he_ could stop feeling so.

"Tell me."

He did, everything, from the research into what information about him was available and where, and when, to his suspicion of the role of Peter Lewis, and his minion at the NSA.

"It makes sense, Emily."

She was still absorbing what he'd told her, and shaking her head.

"It _doesn't_ make sense. Not _sense._ Nothing connected with Peter Lewis ever does. But I have to agree that it's possible. And where Scratch is involved, 'possible' is good enough." She looked up at him. "If you want to pursue this, I'll approve it. But we'll need to be subtle. Like, _exceedingly_ subtle. If he's as good as he seems, he'll know we're investigating."

"I will be. I've been working mostly with paper, so he'd have to have eyes in the bullpen to know."

It struck both of them at the same time, and they said it in stereo.

"He might!"

Reid was the first to regroup.

"I'll have Garcia do an electronic sweep."

Emily was right behind him.

"Good, but that won't be enough. NSA has plenty of stealth equipment. We'll need visual as well. We should have Luke do it."

Reid reacted, not quite ready to bring anyone but JJ and Garcia into it.

"I can do it."

Emily read between the lines.

"We're going to need to work as a team on this." Seeing his continued hesitation, she added, "Please. It's time. It's _past_ time."

He would never know if he'd responded to their history, or to the logic of it. It did, after all, make sense that someone other than himself explore the BAU for espionage devices, and Luke had used them in his fugitive task force work. So, for whichever reason, Spencer Reid agreed to let the rest of his team into 'his' case.

"All right. But we'll need to brief them outside the BAU."

* * *

Reid smiled as he came back down the stairs and caught JJ doing her best to look like she'd been immersed in a file, and not watching Emily's office door for fireworks.

"It's all right. She's on board."

JJ's brows went up. "She is? That's great!"

"Uh-huh. But we shouldn't discuss it here."

"We shouldn't?" Remembering that they already had.

"No, not until we've swept it both visually and electronically."

Purposely angling his face down as he spoke.

"But…"

"I know. It's too late now. We'll just need to be more careful going forward."

Regretting that it was just possible that he'd already inadvertently tipped his NSA nemesis that he was on to him.

JJ nodded her understanding.

"Okay. So…."

"So, let's go for a walk."

* * *

There were two fitness loops on the grounds, one serving as the track for the gym, and the other running a more interesting path through some of the wooded acreage. They chose the latter.

"Emily thinks we should have the whole team involved."

"Are you okay with that?" Knowing all the reasons he might not be, but hoping that he was.

Reid nodded. "I realize that I can't stay on the team if I can't fully integrate with it. So I have to get past how I feel, and move forward. I can't hold on to the distrust."

When they'd gone several steps without JJ responding, Reid realized how it might have sounded to her.

"Present company excepted, of course."

She smiled.

"Present company is always on your side, Spence."

He grinned, and squeezed her shoulder.

"I know. So, Emily's going to get Rossi to invite the team to his place for cocktails, and we'll brief everyone then. I'll have Garcia do a detailed electronic sweep, but Emily thinks we need a visual one as well, and she's probably right. She suggested Luke for that, but it doesn't mean we can't all be alert to it. And then we'll need a plan to either draw him out, or trace everything back to him."

"How would you prove it was him? I mean, you can trace the information, and the path it took, but how will you place the specific person at the end of that path?"

He nodded, having already considered it. "That's why I think we'll have to draw him out. But we need more information first."

"Pen will give it her best shot, you know that."

"I do. I need to get her working on another case, too." He told her about the possible serial he'd come across in his work with IP.

"Wow! So working with Clare may help you save an innocent man _and_ get a predator put away. I'm impressed!"

The mention of Clare made him realize they'd never talked about the meeting of the two. Curiosity overwhelmed hesitancy, and he asked her.

"Did you enjoy brunch?" _Did you like Clare?_

"It was fun. I think you might have a rival for her affection, though."

"Huh?"

"All Henry could talk about at dinner that night was 'Clare said this' and 'Clare liked that'. Then, when I said something about her being your girlfriend, he got this look on his face, like he hadn't realized. It was pretty comical."

Reid didn't quite know what to make of that, reacting both to JJ identifying Clare as his girlfriend, and Henry trying to horn in on him.

 _But at least he liked her._ Reid had become very familiar with the ability of a child to see into one's soul.

"Well, Clare was pretty fond of him, too."

"Did she meet your mom?"

"She did. It went surprisingly well."

JJ rubbed his shoulder. "So it's all good, right?"

He shrugged. "Is it? I still haven't heard what my best friend thought."

JJ was silent for a few more steps.

"Spence, you can't base a relationship on whether or not your friends like the person."

 _Can you?_

"Does that mean you didn't like her?"

Feeling both a little irritated and concerned. He really didn't trust himself emotionally yet, and needed his best friend to be his emotional sounding board. Or so he thought.

"No, of course not! She's lovely, Spence. Really, she is. I'm just … I guess I'm just protective where you're concerned, and I want someone really special. I'm fussy."

"You didn't like her."

JJ took him by the arm and turned him, halting their progress.

"I'm not saying that. In fact, I _did_ like her, very much. We had a chance to talk a little when you were on the phone with Mountain Laurel, and she made it clear to me how much she cares about you."

"She did?"

"Yes."

Not telling him the rest, about how the two women had bonded over their concern for him, especially in light of his PTSD. JJ wasn't sure Reid would be happy to think of them coming together over his vulnerability, and their determination to protect him.

She also wasn't prepared to tell him about the soul-searching that meeting Clare had precipitated, but not so much for his sake as for hers. JJ had been taken aback when she found herself ruminating on Clare…and mostly on her best friend…in the middle of the night.

 _He's always been there, always. He's been my constant. I know Will is, too. But Spence was there even before Will, and he's been there through everything, and in our business, that really means 'everything'. And he's still here._

For the duration of his time in prison, she'd been in existential pain, with him, for him and without him. She'd agonized over what he'd been going through, and then agonized again at having to experience that worry without her best friend there to support her.

The idea that there might be someone else who would supplant her place in his life had thrown her off balance, even though she'd known, on some level, that this time would come. In truth, she'd _prayed_ for it to come, prayed for him to have someone to come home to each night, and a family to look forward to. But, now that the time might be near, she found herself to be apprehensive. At first, she'd tried to dismiss it as worry that Clare might not be right for him, might hurt him one day, might become a source of sorrow, as had Maeve. Then she'd thought it was because it might not be the right time for him, so soon after his ordeal.

And then, she'd been struck with the truth.

 _It's me. I'm not ready._

She hadn't been totally honest with him this morning, when she'd blamed her mood on single-parenting in Will's absence. It had been equally as much caused by the brutally honest conversation she'd had with herself the night before.

 _You know he loves you. You know he's enamored of you, and you just soak it up and let him be that way. And some part of you realizes that he's morphed from 'the little brother you never had' into someone you find attractive. Someone you're flattered to have attracted to you. Someone you're maybe just a little bit in love with._

They'd never discussed it, but she was sure he was equally aware. Years ago, when they'd gone on their first and only date, there had been nothing between them but a shared newness to the BAU, uncertainty born of inexperience. But in the years since, affection had formed, and deepened, and grown into a true, rooted love, grounded in admiration, and respect, and, on occasion, longing. But, awareness aside, JJ knew that neither of them would ever dream of acting on it. It wasn't who they were. It wasn't who they wanted to be.

 _Still, it's always been there, and I can feel it. I'm going to have to let go. And I miss him already, even as he's walking beside me!_

Which he was doing, while also now staring at her because she'd been quiet for so long.

"You okay?"

JJ flashed him a look, wondering if there was a deeper meaning to the question. But all she could see in his eyes was concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…..things are changing, I can feel it."

"What's the saying? 'No man steps in the same river twice.' Things _have_ to change, don't they?"

"I guess." She tried to shake the mood away, literally. "Never mind me. You asked about Clare. She's great. And if she makes you happy, she's stupendous."

He grinned. "It's not like we're in a real relationship yet. That takes time, especially for me. But I'm glad that you like her. I like her, too."

JJ looked at him, to see if he was kidding, but he wasn't.

 _I should have known better. You're Spence. You're willing to take your time with Clare, aren't you? You're willing to 'like' her, and not about to rush into loving her. And here, I've just leapt right past you and into the rest of your life._

All she could do was to laugh at herself. For the moment, it felt good.


	36. Chapter 36

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 36**_

Arriving to Rossi's, Reid felt an unexpected surge of emotion. It had been his place of refuge after the ordeals of prison and the kidnapping of his mother, his place of sorrow when he'd begun the internal journey of facing himself, his place of fear, when he'd learned that his friends had been attacked, his place of security, when he finally placed himself into the wise hands of David Rossi.

It had been a journey of months, but Reid felt as though he'd aged years. His time in prison had been lived in an immediate and unending present, necessitated by the requirement to be constantly aware of those in his vicinity, and their intentions, and the dangers they posed. Even in the rare quiet interlude, having been told the uncertainty of his future, he'd begun to let go of his past. He'd lived only in the moment, ageless.

But in the time since, he'd relived of all of it, and spent time delving deep into his own history, trying to search out the person whose life trajectory had landed him in prison. The effort had taken its toll as he'd become mired in both the recent and distant past. It had been only in the past few weeks, in the blossoming of his relationship with Clare, that he'd dared to try to glimpse his future.

If he hadn't been so bent on his mission, those conflicting emotions might have overwhelmed Reid. But he _was_ on a mission, to convince the remainder of his colleagues that there was a mole at work, responsible for most of what had happened to put him into prison, and to keep him there. So he did was he was so very adept at doing. He buried his feelings, and centered on the task at hand.

Rossi met him at the door, and directed him to the kitchen, where the others were already gathered around drinks and hors d'oeuvre.

"What'll it be?"

"Uh, just water, I think."

Rossi gave him a look. "Straight up, or on the rocks?"

Before Reid could answer, JJ was there, placing a glass into his hands.

"It's mostly tonic water, with just a little bit of 'calming influence', and lots of ice. Trust me, you'll like it."

She shot him a look that said, ' _and you might need it'_. So he took it, and sipped, and nodded his approval.

"Thanks."

He'd barely taken a second sip when Emily called for the group's attention.

"Everyone, you're probably wondering why we're here."

Luke Alvez teased, "You mean, drinks and eats aren't enough reason?"

"Well, they would be. And I'm sure Rossi will ante up another time, but there _is_ another reason we're here. We have reason to believe that the FBI has a mole, and that the person in question had much to do with setting Spencer up in Mexico, and with his treatment in prison."

After all the months of resentment, and the premature mourning of the loss of his friendship with her, Spencer Reid could have kissed Emily Prentiss in that moment. She hadn't relegated the telling of the tale to him, as though he was some conspiracy theorist. She'd owned it, phrased it as 'we' and not 'he'. She was supporting him, and it felt so achingly familiar that he almost _did_ kiss her.

"Reid and JJ have been looking into the possibility, with tech support from Garcia. They've got a pretty convincing theory. Convincing and troubling, because it includes concern that the bullpen is not secure, which is why we're meeting here. I'll let Reid tell you the rest."

Reid made eye contact with each of the others before starting in. He knew he had JJ in his camp, and it sounded like Emily was there as well. Garcia would support him in anything, he knew. So he focused mainly on Tara Lewis, Luke Alvez, and, most importantly, David Rossi.

He reviewed the concern about how Cat Adams had known what she had about him, acknowledging that some could have been gleaned through social media, and some through news media accounts of some of their cases.

"But she also knew that I'd gone to Mexico, and I didn't even know I was going until the day before. I left from a case, remember? Even if Lyndsey had been following me here in DC….and I guess it looks like she had, when she wasn't carrying out her hits along the border….she still couldn't have known I was leaving from the case. She couldn't have followed me to Houston. Someone had to alert her that I was traveling apart from the team."

Luke wasn't so sure. "Couldn't she have had some kind of computer alert for your name on a flight manifest?"

Reid shook his head. "She could have, but she would have needed help with that. There's nothing in her background to suggest she has that level of facility with technology. Beside that, there wouldn't have been time. I bought my ticket on the way to the airport, and boarded right after I got there. Lyndsey had to have already been in Texas. She could have followed me from the airport there, but only if someone alerted her I was coming."

Tara was intrigued. "So, who would know?"

JJ described the 'behind-the-scenes' process of the team's travel arrangements.

"So, even though all we do is get on and off the plane, there's a lot of documentation that goes into our own flight manifests, and hotel rosters, et cetera. The travel office communicates with finance, so those would be the two places where information would be available to a mole. They're the only ones who would have had a clue that Spence had checked out early and was separating from the team."

Rossi's face reflected his skepticism. "You think our travel office has a mole?" Turning his gaze back to Reid.

"Not necessarily the travel office, and maybe not finance, either. The mole isn't necessarily within the FBI."

The response was too cryptic for Rossi, so Reid gestured to Garcia to explain.

"Okay, well…..when Boy Wonder asked me to look into this, I scoured our servers for intruders from the outside, and I found nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. But then Boy Wonder asked me who _else_ has access to government computers, and I said, 'well, the government, of course', and then….gobsmack alert! It makes sense! We weren't being hacked from outside. We were being hacked from inside!"

Rossi needed translation. "You're saying that someone in government has been feeding Reid's information to Cat Adams?"

Reid took back the reins. "I don't even think they had to hack. I think they had access as part of their work."

Tara understood now. "You're talking NSA."

"Exactly."

A light went on in Rossi's eyes as well. "Scratch had a connection with the NSA, didn't he? Weren't they surveilling him, because he was too diabolically genius not to?"

JJ responded. "They were surveilling him even when he was committing those murders. That's how Hotch found him out. He had a contact in the NSA, who pretty much admitted that they'd known."

"And _that_ fact put people in the NSA at risk of blackmail. If we could prove that they'd known, and let a killer stay on the loose….."

Luke was on board now, too. " _We_ wouldn't blackmail them. But Scratch might, once he was on the loose."

Reid caught JJ's eyes and raised his glass to her in a little gesture of victory. They'd won the team over.

He offered his theory. "So, I think the most likely thing is that the mole is actually from the NSA, maybe even Hotch's contact, Anthony Axelrod."

"Axelrod?" asked Tara. "Wasn't he the one who called us in on those missing DEA agents? Didn't he think the DEA had a mole?"

"Oh, the irony," came from a sardonic Rossi. "This is making sense to me now, Spencer. Axelrod was in on the hitman ring as well. He would have known everything there was to know about Cat Adams, and it would have been easy for him to connect her with Scratch."

"So we're all on board?" asked Emily. "Anybody who doesn't want want to go down this road?"

Looking at the two newest members of the team.

"I'm in," said Tara. "It always seemed a bit much to me that Scratch could find my brother, even with his skills. But with NSA access…..now it makes sense."

"You've got me, too," said Luke. "This team has been through too much because of this bastard. I'm ready to take him down."

"All right, then. I'll talk to Cruz."

Reid spoke up. "Uh, Emily? I'm wondering if we should maybe keep this to ourselves, at least for now."

Catching the implication in his tone and the look of caution in his eyes, Emily understood his reluctance. Reid was right. If they had a mole, the best way to hide their own investigation was to keep it small. She ran her gaze over the rest of the team, looking from person to person for assent.

Each set of eyes responded in the affirmative.

"All right, we'll keep it internal. So, team...I'm open to ideas."

Garcia spoke up. "I can't really just cast an electronic net into the NSA to see what comes back. But, since we have a name to work with, I should be able to look at his personal cyber-footprint. If he's done anything from a home network, or on a non-encrypted phone, I can get a look at it."

Tara wondered. "Is that legal?"

Rossi didn't care. "If they wanted us to worry about 'legal', they shouldn't have shielded Scratch from us. Then we'd still have our resident attorney on the team."

"Go ahead, Garcia. But remember who you're dealing with. If you see even a hint that there's counter-surveillance, get out of there right away," cautioned Emily.

"Yes, ma'am!"

As Garcia left for her lair, Reid stood to address the others.

"I've been thinking about this longer than the rest of you. I don't think we'll find what we need... at least, not enough to prove it. I think we're going to have to catch him doing it in real time."

"What are you saying, Spencer?" Rossi's tone made it sound like he already knew, and agreed.

"I'm saying that we need to tempt Scratch somehow. Draw him out, either by getting him to think we've got more than we do, or by luring him into doing what he loves to do."

"Torture us, you mean?" asked Alvez.

Tara understood. "He takes advantage of situations, like he did with Hotch, and me, and you, Spencer. He didn't create the background events, he just took advantage of the fact that they isolated us from the others."

Luke followed her reasoning. "So you're thinking we need to isolate one of us, and wait for him to pounce."

Reid nodded. "I think so. And I'm willing to be the bait."

"No!" Came from every mouth around the table. JJ expounded on it.

"Spence, no! Not after what you've just been through. You can't bear the weight of this, too!"

"But it makes sense, JJ. I haven't reintegrated with the team. I mean, not fully. I'm already isolated."

Seeing the others exchange glances at that, he clarified.

"I'm not saying it's because of you. It just _is_. That's all."

Emily stepped in before the conversation went completely off course.

"I don't think it can be you, Spencer. It's true that you're still reintegrating, but it's also true that your mother is in a safe, secure place now, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…."

She held up a palm. "No buts. You guys are right, he goes after people who have something to lose. Remember what he did with those families from the foster home. He had them kill someone they loved. He went after Tara's brother because she loves him. And he did the same with your mother, Spencer."

"Lyndsey Vaughn did that, and Cat Adams."

"But Scratch helped them, probably because it was an irresistible setup for him. He.."

JJ interrupted her superior. "Can we think that through? I mean, Scratch didn't just help Cat Adams after Spence was alone in Mexico, right? He had to have helped her _before._ Lyndsey leased that apartment long before Mexico. It wasn't just Spence's being on his own that drew Scratch."

Reid understood what she was saying. "It was my mother. He knew how important she was to me because I'd been traveling back and forth to see her, and then because I brought her home with me. That's what attracted his attention. He just used Cat's hatred of me to do the rest."

They all thought about the implications for a moment. The silence was broken by Luke.

"All right, so we need to draw him in by letting him see that one of us has an important relationship first, and then we need to get him to think that the person is isolated, putting them at risk. The only important relationship in my life right now is with Roxy. I'm willing to put that out there, as long as we can keep her safe."

Emily smiled at him. "Thanks. But I don't think Scratch can fathom the relationship between a human and an animal. Which leaves me and Sergio out, too."

Tara spoke up. "I can probably get my brother on board, but I don't want to put my dad through anything else."

Rossi shook his head. "One to a customer. I can't put Joy or my grandson into the middle of it, but there's public record evidence that I've got a third wife floating around out there somewhere. Maybe we can fake it."

JJ sighed a deep sigh of realization and resignation. "It has to be me."

She did, after all, have the most to lose in terms of family. How could Scratch resist?

"No, it doesn't." Reid's tone was firm. "We're not putting the boys in danger."

 _And we're not putting you in danger, either._

* * *

In the end, and at his strong insistence, it was decided that Rossi would serve as the lure. His large home would offer plenty of cover for a security detail, and they would recruit one of Emily's former Interpol colleagues to impersonate his third wife. It was deemed too risky to use someone from any of the stateside agencies, as Scratch….and Axelrod…might have more ready access to records indicating their true identity.

After being contacted by her out of the blue, Rossi would take some of his untapped vacation time to host the long missing Krystall, in town for some sightseeing. Garcia rubbed her fingers in delight at the idea of setting it up.

"What's your pet name?"

"My what?"

"What's your pet name? What did she call you? I have to make these emails look authentic."

Alvez wasn't so sure. "Won't they be able to tell the emails are coming from within the FBI?"

The others couldn't help but smile at the withering look he received from Garcia.

"Listen, _newbie_. Axelrod and his cronies at the NSA might be black ops, but I'm the Black Queen. Besides, setting up a fake account is so easy, Roxy could do it. Even making it look like the IP is in Vegas isn't all that difficult. But hiding the fakery from the NSA? Well, now you're talking genius."

Blowing on her own nails.

Luke had gotten stuck on something. "The Black Queen?"

Emily interjected before the conversation could derail.

"Long story, best told at O'Keefe's."

Luke got the message. "I hear you. Okay, so we're assuming Axelrod, or Scratch or someone at the NSA will intercept these emails and know where Dave will be, and when, and….what?"

Reid elaborated. "He'll either go after Rossi while he's separated from the team, or he'll go after the agent impersonating Krystall, to cause Rossi emotional pain. Either way, it's dangerous, and we're going to need to be extremely careful."

JJ agreed. "We're going to need to have security at the house, and with eyes on both of them at all times. No exceptions."

Emily nodded. "Agreed. Dave?"

Rossi nodded as well. "Agreed. I've actually got security cameras on the grounds already. We can put up a few inside the house, and they can monitor them from one of the bedrooms. I'm game….as long as I can keep my pet names to myself."

Garcia made a face, but then quickly brightened.

"Can I make one up?"


	37. Chapter 37

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 37**_

The plan would take a few days to evolve, so it was back to business as usual for the near future. For Reid, that meant ending Tuesday afternoon at the Innocence Project office.

"Hi, Jasmine."

Watching as the young intern finished gathering things into her oversized bag.

"Oh, hello, Spencer. I was just on my way to deliver some of these files to downtown. MC is in her office, if you need her."

"Okay, thanks."

He gave a soft knock so as not to disturb her if she was on the phone, and heard a muflfed, "Come on in!"

Reid pushed the door in and immediately began to laugh.

"What are you doing?"

All he could see was her hindquarters sticking out from beneath her desk. Not that he was complaining about it.

"Mmmph….there it is!"

Clare emerged from under her desk, and seeing the bemused look on Reid's face, realized the absurdity of the scene he'd walked in on.

"Ahem." Clearing her throat in embarrassment. "I was just looking for my ring."

Holding up a thin silver band with some sort of stone on one side. Reid stepped closer, so he could see.

"Amethyst. Is that your birthstone?"

Realizing he didn't even know when her birthday was, and feeling like a failure at 'Boyfriend 101'. He also couldn't remember having noticed the ring before.

"No, my birthday is in July, same as Harry Potter."

"July 31?"

Waiting for confirmation before filing it away.

"Yep. I turned eleven about a month after the first book came out. Mom got an early copy through a friend...only just that once, sadly...and I read it, and I remember being so disappointed when my birthday came and went without a letter."

He smiled. "So, if your birthday is in July, why the amethyst?"

"It was my grandmother's. I don't wear it that often, because I'm afraid of losing it….like I almost just did."

"Is it too big?"

"No, I just took it off because I was going to wash my hands, because I just finished eating an orange for lunch, and I got juice everywhere, and…."

She stopped at the sight of his upraised palm.

"What?"

"It's five o'clock. Did you just eat lunch now?"

"It's been a busy day."

"Apparently. What say I take you to dinner? Or we can bring it in, if you have something you can't leave."

She chose the latter option, so they pulled out the office's pile of take-out menus and phoned in an order for delivery.

"Spencer, I didn't even ask you what kind of day _you've_ had. How was it?"

Reid took a moment to edit his day. If he couldn't be open with her about the specifics of a case, he reasoned, he definitely couldn't be open with her about the likelihood of there being a mole operating within one of the nation's most important security agencies. So he painted with broad strokes of the brush.

"It was pretty eventful, at least for me. I think we made some ground on how I was framed for the murder in Mexico. At the very least, I feel like we're all in agreement that I _was_ framed."

The wording got her attention.

"Are you saying that someone on the team still believes you actually killed that woman?"

"No! No. But I think some of them might have believed that the women who framed me were just lucky opportunists. Now…."

Realizing he'd essentially given it away, despite not planning to. His subconscious wondered if it had become that important to him that she not think ill of him.

Clare put the pieces together. "You're thinking that luck had nothing to do with it. They had someone helping them."

Not specifically pointing in the direction of the FBI. Reid decided to leave well enough alone.

"Something like that. So we're putting together a plan, but it will take a few days to unfold. In the meantime, it's business as usual."

She chuckled. "As usual as your business ever gets."

"I could say the same about yours, couldn't I?"

"Touche."

Clare leaned back against her desk and studied him for a few seconds. He seemed a little wound up, but maybe in a good way, an anticipatory way. She assumed it was because of the progress on his case, but knew that wasn't the only unsettled aspect of his life.

"How's your mother doing?"

Enjoying the fact that she'd had the privilege of meeting the woman. She'd long sensed that Spencer Reid didn't allow much new traffic into his personal life.

"She's taking her meds again."

"That's good news!"

Reid didn't look convinced, and his words told her why.

"It would be better news if it looked like they were working as effectively as they were a month ago."

 _Ah, not just the case._ Instinctively, she reached out a hand to rub his arm.

"I'm sorry. I can only imagine what this must be like for you."

Reid moved beside her, also leaning his long frame against the desk. His eyes settled into the middle distance.

"It's….actually, it's something I'm used to. I mean, she's been ill since before I was born. There were some good periods when I was really young, but they were already behind her by the time I was ten. After that, it was a day by day thing."

Clare leaned her sympathy into him.

"I'm so sorry it's been like that for you. For the short time I met her, she seemed like such a lovely person." She thought a moment more. "Interesting, too."

He reached an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

"Thanks. And she is….lovely and interesting. I'm glad you were able to see that." He paused a moment, thinking back over the past six months of his life, both with and without Diana. "To tell you the truth, as bad as it's been, this year has also been good for her. She's had some of the most lucid periods I can remember, and we've been able to talk…. _really_ talk….for the first time in a long time."

"I wonder why?"

Reid knew. "I think it's because of the changes in her medication. Her antipsychotics help with her hallucinations, but they also dull her cognitive abilities and mute her personality. I know that, whenever she's gone off her meds before, it's always given her a period of clarity, before the symptoms started up again. That happened again now. Before they started to treat her Alzheimer's, they weaned her off the psychotropics, so they could measure her response to the new meds. I know it won't last, but she's been as clear as I can remember...even if _she_ can't remember."

"Well, then, I'm glad for whatever precious time like that you've had together."

Reid gave a quick glance in her direction before deciding to tell her the rest.

"I think there was something else, too."

Clare sensed the change in his tone, and turned to face him.

"What?"

Reid repositioned himself as a means of delaying his response.

"I think...I wish we'd had more time like that, and I think it might be my fault that we didn't."

Speaking gently, seeing that he was upset, Clare asked him to explain. He heaved a sigh before doing so.

"I think maybe I got in the way of her being functional. I think I had begun to look at her as needy, and dependent. Weak." Casting his eyes down to his feet, feeling a bit of shame, in retrospect. "I think I began to define her by her illness, even when I wouldn't let anyone else do it. I thought I had to shoulder all of the responsibility. The truth is that I did, sometimes. But other times…. I don't think I even let her try."

Clare bent her head down, trying to get under his, trying to capture his eyes, and bring them up from the floor.

"You're talking about it as though it was a bad thing that you looked out for your mother. Why?"

Reid gave in to her eyes, and raised his head from his chest.

"It's not that. It's that I took over. I _decided_ she couldn't do it, and eventually, I didn't even let her try."

Clare narrowed her gaze, not understanding where this seemingly sudden bout of self-recrimination was coming from.

"Spencer, didn't you tell me you were only eleven when your father left you alone with your mother?"

He gave a silent nod.

"Well, then, you were hardly in a position to wrest control from your mother."

He was quick with a retort. "I wasn't your typical eleven-year-old."

"Meaning?"

"I knew how to keep things from her. I didn't trust her to pay the bills, so I always grabbed the mail on the way home from school, and I forged checks in her name. I made excuses for her not to attend any school activities, and she never even knew. I…"

Clare interrupted him. "Okay, I get it. But I'll bet you didn't come up with that plan without having been burned a few times before."

He gave a bitter snort. "Oh, yeah."

"So why are you feeling guilty about it now?"

Reid forced himself to hold her gaze.

"Because I think she was still in there. I mean, I _know_ she was, and we did talk a lot, and we wrote letters nearly every day. But it wasn't until I was at my worst, at my lowest point, in prison…. It wasn't until _I_ was the weak one that I gave in and I let _her_ be who _she_ was. My mother."

Clare's eyes immediately filled at the poignancy of what he'd just said. In the worst moments of his life, when he was most frightened and alone, his illness-embattled mother had managed to be there for him, at what would prove to be great cost to both of them.

She laid both hands over her heart, showing him how touched she was. And then she put her arms around him, squeezing her support. When she did, she felt his arms encircling her waist, and heard his whisper in her ear.

"I'm glad you got to see that in her."

She squeezed harder, and whispered back, "I'm glad you got to be a son again."

* * *

What they'd thought would take only a few days to set up had taken nearly a week. Emily had been able to make the case for Interpol assistance easily enough, because Scratch had been known to cross international borders. But it took a little longer to identify the right female operative to play Krystall. Given Scratch's access to electronic security resources, they'd felt it necessary to find an agent who could defendably pass a facial-recognition program.

"And I need to make the real Krystall go electronically incognito until we're through with this," insisted Garcia. "We don't need our nefarious Mr. Scratch finding two of them out there."

Rossi was curious. "How are you going to keep her off the internet? She and I haven't even been in touch for over a decade."

Garcia rolled her eyes. "I'm rendering her incognito, not prehistoric. See? I've cloned each of her electronics and then rerouted them, so anything she sends will look like it went out from our fake Krystall's account. If Scratch tries to trace anything, it will only take him where we want to lead him."

Rossi hadn't understood a word of what she'd said, but he'd long ago learned to respect her abilities.

"Weave away on your magic, Madame Penelope."

As the tech analyst headed back to her lair, Emily called the team to attention around the table. The team, minus one.

"Anybody hear from JJ?"

Reid spoke up. "She texted me. She's on her way. Will got called back in for another DHS exercise."

Not needing to explain the fallout for the temporarily single parent.

Luke was curious. "Didn't he just have an op last week? Is something up?"

"They're probably just running some drills, especially with the holidays coming in a couple of months," posited Emily, even as she made a mental note to do some calling around after the meeting. If there was actually an identified threat out there, the BAU might prove useful in defusing it.

Reid held up his phone, showing the text screen. "She's in the elevator."

So they waited until their harried colleague could join them, Reid making a space at the table next to him.

"Sorry, guys, I…."

Emily waved away the apology. "We heard. No worries. We're just about to get started." She filled JJ in on Garcia's plans while Reid rose and prepared a cup of coffee for his best friend.

"Here you go."

She grabbed it like a lifeline, and sent a smile around to the others, thanking them for their indulgence.

"You guys are the best. I promise it will be better when Mom gets back and can help me out."

Rossi could see that she didn't like the kind of attention she was receiving, so he moved the conversation along.

"So, Alice….Krystall….should arrive this evening, and she'll go straight to the Hay-Adams, is that still on?"

Emily nodded. "Yes. We'll have eyes there and at your place, but we don't expect anything to happen tonight. It's more likely that he'll wait a day or two into your 'vacation', to make sure you're physically isolated from the team."

Tara added, "Both your housekeeping and landscape crews will arrive with an extra body each," pointing to herself and Alvez. "We'll stay behind and set up full surveillance in one of your spare bedrooms. He won't have seen your fellow team members arrive, so he won't have any idea we're there."

Luke grinned. "I've heard about those upstairs bedrooms. Can't wait to see one in person."

Rossi gave him a look. "Surveillance only. No sleeping on my 800 count Egyptian cotton sheets."

Luke saluted, laughing. "Okay, boss."

Reid hadn't heard his assignment yet, though he'd been asking. "Where do you want me?"

Her lack of eye contact told Reid that Emily wasn't happy about what she had to tell him.

"You're…..on leave for a few days."

"What?!"

JJ's eyes flitted back and forth between the faces of her two friends, anxious for what was unfolding.

Emily Prentiss closed her eyes, drew a reinforcing breath, and forced herself to look into the disbelieving eyes of her old friend.

"Section Chief Cruz feels you're too close to it. Too emotionally involved. He wants you to stay away from it."

If Spencer Reid had ever been capable of becoming apoplectic, it would have been now. Instead, he was just angry, and baffled.

"Me? What about..what about Tara? What about all of you? We lost our unit chief to this parasite! Why am I the one sidelined?"

"Spence…." JJ tried to calm him down, while feeling anything but calm herself. But she could see that her best friend was on the verge of outright rebellion, and she couldn't have that.

"No! I'm not sitting this one out. This is too important to me, Emily. You have to be able to see that! This…Scratch…Peter Lewis helped to take my life away from me. He helped Cat Adams isolate me from everything and everyone. He helped her try to kill my mother! Emily, you can't do this to me!"

His new unit chief did her best to deliver her message through her eyes. Reid's emotional response was actually making Mateo Cruz's case against him being involved. But she also knew how critical it was to his completing the healing process, that Reid be involved in taking down Scratch.

"I'm not doing it to you, Spencer. But we both need to follow orders here. My orders are to tell you to take some leave." Waiting a beat to add, "What you choose to do on that leave is up to you."

* * *

Making no effort to hide her intention, Emily had suggested that JJ might be due for some leave as well, and not just because her husband was away. With Rossi already taking some well-earned vacation time, having two additional agents on leave would effectively put the team on stand-down, and eliminate the possibility of them being called away on a case.

"Emily is sly like a fox," grinned JJ as she returned the morning's favor, and brought Reid a cup of coffee. She'd put a full three packets of sugar into this one, and watched for his reaction to it. He had none. Just thanked her, and sipped away.

 _Getting there. Not that I'm trying to rot your teeth or anything._

Reid responded to her. "She is. I apologized to her, afterward. I should have known she was only doing her job, and that she would find a way to make it work."

JJ nodded, happy that her two friends were finding common ground once again.

"So, how exactly are we going to make it work?"

Reid had been pondering it.

"I think we just need to be ready. Mobile."

"You mean, like a stake out?"

"Sort of. The thing is, we can't know if he'll go after Krystall….Alice…or Rossi. He attacked Hotch directly, but with Tara, he went after her family member."

"And with you, he did both. Or he helped Cat do both, I guess."

"Right. So, we can't be sure what he'll do this time. But I'm thinking it will be Rossi he'll go after."

"Why?"

"Because Krystall isn't close enough to Rossi. Think about it. Scratch made his original victims kill the person they loved most in the world. And, with Tara, even though she hadn't shared her history with us, he somehow knew how close she'd been with her brother. But Rossi and Krystall haven't seen each other in decades. He'll know they're not close. So I think he'll do what he did with Hotch….wait until Rossi is alone, and then pounce."

"So why did we even need to involve Krystall?"

Reid shrugged. "Because it's only an educated guess. And we can't afford for me to have guessed wrong."

JJ understood. "Fair enough. So, it sounds like we should sit on Rossi."

"Tara and Luke will be at his place. I think we need to keep a little distance, and be ready to react wherever Scratch shows up. I want a wider perspective, so I can see him operating. He's not getting by me this time."

JJ looked down at the file on her desk and smiled to herself at the tone of conviction in Reid's voice. She hadn't heard it in the better part of a year, and hadn't realized just how much she'd missed it…and him.

 _You're almost all the way back, Spence. We'll take Scratch down and make it complete._

Her eye caught the clock on her computer, and she jumped up, putting things in her bag.

"I almost forgot that I need to make pick-up rounds this afternoon!"

Reid offered to help.

"I can get Henry."

JJ continued packing. "Isn't this usually one of your days to go to the Project? Go, be with Clare. I've got this."

He smiled at the sight and sound of his very capable best friend. To his mind, there wasn't much JJ couldn't subdue.

"Okay, if you insist."

She threw him a meaningful smile. "Well, that didn't take much arm-twisting. Tell Clare I said hello."

"I will." He rose and started packing his messenger bag, when Garcia emerged from her lair to lean over the mezzanine stairs.

"Jayje! Can I see you for a minute?"

Realizing that JJ would be held up from her mission, Reid started to offer his help again, but she shooed him away.

"Go! I'll call you tonight, after I've gotten the boys down, and we can figure out the details for tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Jasmine was the only one in the office when Reid arrived. Once again, she was packing files to be delivered to the main office.

"MC texted about an hour ago to say that court was running behind. She should be back soon. Are you okay here on your own?"

"Fine. Do you have any new files for me to look at?"

She did, so Reid got busy reviewing a new set of case histories, congratulating himself on how adept he'd become at interpreting court proceedings. He barely heard Jasmine leave, and was completely startled when he heard a loud knock on the wooden door leading to the hallway.

"Wha…"

His instincts kicked in, and he drew his weapon before approaching the door. Thankful that Clare had insisted on the landlord installing a security peephole, but aware that standing in front of the door to look through it might put him at risk, Reid did his best to lean over from the side, and look through.

 _Clare._

He holstered his weapon and opened the door, and found her standing there looking frazzled, her arms full of files, and a bag of take-out Chinese perched on top.

"What happened?"

Taking the bag from her arms first, and then the files.

"Ugh. The zipper broke on my carry-on, and the files kept falling out. So I tried to find someone with duct tape, but _you_ just try finding duct tape at a courthouse. I was stuck with using masking tape, but that did nothing. So I had to trash the carry-on, and use my arms for a carry-over."

He made certain not to smile too broadly at her dilemma.

"I'm sorry. I'd offer to cheer you up by treating you to dinner, but it looks like you've already got that handled."

She grinned, over it already. "Got your favorite...a fork."

He'd shared that particular embarrassing incident in his life, the last time she'd needed cheering up.

"Ha. I hope you got something to eat with it, too. I'm hungry tonight."

Clare recognized it as a sign of progress. He'd told her that, among many other things, his PTSD had affected both his sleep and his appetite. She'd not been surprised.

"I got plenty. We can share."

She started removing containers from the bag and spreading them out on the small conference table.

"So, how was your day? Did you make any progress with your case?"

"Sort of. We made assignments, and…."

The vibration of his phone interrupted him. Reid slipped it out of his pocket and checked the screen.

JJ.

As he hit the 'return call' button, he wondered. They'd planned to talk after the boys had gone to bed, but that wouldn't be for hours.

"JJ? What…"

"Spence! Tell me you changed your mind!"

"What?"

"Tell me you realized I'd be stuck with Garcia, and you went to pick up Henry. You did, didn't you? Please tell me you have Henry!"

 _Zugzwang._ That was the last time he'd felt like this, that moment he'd heard the word ' _zugzwang_ '.

He should have realized. Rossi wasn't the only team member isolated tonight. JJ was on her own as well, caring for her boys in the absence of their father. Exactly the kind of opportunity Scratch would seize upon.

The panic he'd heard underlying her words told him she already knew his answer.

"Oh, my God."


	38. Chapter 38

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 38**_

"I have to go."

She'd heard him tell JJ to go home and wait for him, and that he would notify the team. But Clare still had no idea what was going on. As much as the sense of urgency alarmed her, Clare realized that team business was probably not her business, so she hesitated to ask. But she could offer.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Reid's thoughts had been racing, his mind running scenarios, and probabilities and possibilities, many of which he wished he could banish from his imagination.

"No." Quick to answer, but then thinking better of it, and feeling like he owed her more. "Someone picked Henry up from school, and it wasn't anyone we know."

Clare's hand went to her chest. "Oh, my God. He was taken?"

Reid could only shake his head. "We don't know. But it looks that way."

Clare ran back into her office to grab her purse and carry bag.

"I'm coming with you. I know I can't do what you can do, but there's got to be something. A mother shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

He started to refuse her, until he saw the determination in her eyes. He could only hope to see that determination in the eyes of his best friend as well. Clare might not realize it, but he knew there was no way JJ would stay behind to be comforted. The young attorney wouldn't be supporting a frightened mother. But there might be something else she could do.

"All right. You can watch Michael."

* * *

They abandoned the Metro and took an Uber to Clare's, which was closer, picking up her car. Reid wanted to close his eyes as she made her way at record speed along the short segment of beltway, but then, he reasoned, he wouldn't know when to brace himself. He was almost relieved when the surface streets slowed them down.

As they arrived, Reid spotted JJ's car in the driveway and Rossi's parked at the curb. He was relieved _not_ to see the flashing lights of a Metro PD unit.

"No police?"

Clare had noticed, too.

"We need to keep this quiet for now."

"But….Will…."

"Is away on a training operation. He's unreachable."

"Unreach….. So he doesn't know? JJ has to go through this alone?"

Glad, now, that she'd insisted on coming along. Reid led her up the walk.

"She's not alone. She has her team." Turning around to add, "And her friend."

Clare flashed him a brief, taut smile.

"I guess I'm getting a taste of your life, huh?"

"It's not always like this." _Just for the past ten years or so._

As they came to the house, Reid was happy to find both the storm door and the main door locked.

 _At least she didn't forget about security._ He rang the bell.

It was David Rossi who opened the door to them.

"He's not here. The neighbors haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. Nothing on her phone. Garcia is looking at security footage from the school parking lot. But it looks like we're in a holding pattern."

He'd been so focused on briefing his colleague that Rossi hadn't processed the fact that Reid hadn't arrived alone. He did so now, extending a hand in greeting.

"I don't think we've met. I'm David Rossi. I work with Spencer."

Reid completed the introduction. "Don't fall for his modesty, Clare. He's the founder of the BAU. David Rossi, meet Mary Clare Ryan. She works for the Innocence Project."

Although Reid hadn't quite been forthcoming with the team about it, Rossi had heard rumblings about his younger colleague's involvement with the Project. He was pleased to see there'd been a beneficial side effect.

Clare took the proffered hand. "I'm honored to meet you, Agent Rossi. Just sorry it had to happen under such terrible circumstances."

To Reid's questioning look, Rossi explained his presence.

"I was on my way home when Garcia called me. Thought I should get started. The others will be here soon." He gestured over his shoulder toward the living room. "She's in there."

Reid nodded his thanks, and continued on past Rossi. He stopped short at the entrance to a room that was almost as familiar to him as if he lived here, full of memories, both happy and sad. He knew he'd be adding to the latter category tonight.

JJ was pacing, back and forth, back and forth across the room. He could see the tension in her features, the anger, and the fear. He sensed the near panic in her demeanor. _Near_ panic. But Reid also took note that there was no sign of tears, no slump of defeat to her spine. Just the fierce determination he'd come to know and love.

Her eyes had been focused on the floor in front of her, though he was certain that wasn't what she was seeing. When she crossed the room once again, and spun on her heel, he moved to her, and turned her by her elbow.

"JJ…"

She stopped, raising startled eyes up to him.

"Spence!"

Reaching out, and nearly falling into him, her resolute posture beginning to waver, in proximity to her most faithful means of support. Reid pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly. But the embrace was brief. There was much to be done.

"Tell me what you know."

JJ took a breath to steady her voice.

"Like I told you before. I picked up Michael from Karen's first, because I knew she had to go out. I'd already let the school know I'd be late, so Henry could stay and do his homework. But when I got there, they said his father had picked him up."

Reid nodded, remembering. "So you called Will, and…."

"I _tried_ to call Will. But he's away on that exercise with DHS. For a second, I thought maybe it was over and he'd actually picked Henry up, but his phone kept rolling to voice mail, so I called the precinct, and his captain said they're still out of town."

"Can he reach them?"

"He said he was given an emergency number for messages. I'm pretty sure he understood that I consider this an emergency."

Reid would have smiled, if not for the circumstances. It had long fascinated him that his best friend could be so sweet, and yet so assertive, when she needed to.

"All right, so it wasn't Will. And you've tried his friends' parents, right?"

"Garcia is still trying the two I couldn't reach."

Her words had begun to break, and Reid was worried that she might, as well. He took her by the shoulders and guided her gently toward the sofa.

"All right, let's think this through. Henry wouldn't just go with someone he didn't know, right?"

JJ nodded. "Right. He knows better."

"So, maybe there's someone we haven't thought of yet. Like your mom, maybe?"

She shook her head. "I didn't want to scare her, and I knew she would hear it in my voice. So I texted her and asked how the trip was going, and she said it was going wonderfully."

Her voice had come apart as she spoke, and JJ's hand went to her mouth to force back her tears. She didn't have time to indulge her emotions. Reid's hands felt the trembling in her arms, and he gripped her tightly.

"We're not going to lose him, JJ. We're getting him back."

"Please God…" Barely audible, as she lost her battle for control.

The tears came then. JJ leaned into him, and cried into his shirt, as he wrapped one arm around her back, and laid the other hand atop her head. Reid swallowed back his own tears. He loved Henry with all of his heart. In the moments he was honest with himself, he would admit that he loved Henry even more than he loved Michael. Reid's heart had been broken open on the day he'd first held Henry, and the love between them had poured both ways. It had never stopped since.

She allowed herself only a few seconds of weakness. Reid felt her forcibly suppress a sob, as she pushed off from him.

"You're right. We're not letting this SOB hurt my son."

Rossi had entered the room to hear her last words.

"Glad to hear that."

Reid looked over to him. "Where's Clare?"

JJ hadn't realized. "Clare is here?"

Rossi's thumb pointed over his shoulder.

"She's with Michael."

Reid turned back to JJ.

"I was with her when you called. She insisted."

Sounding apologetic, but he needn't have. JJ was relieved to hear it.

"Oh, thank God. We need Garcia working this, but without Karen, or my mom, I didn't know where to turn."

Reid gave silent thanks for Clare's intuitively knowing what to do.

"I'm sure she'll stay as long as we need her to."

Rossi brought them back to the problem at hand.

"So, Metro PD knows. What will they do?"

JJ shook her head. "They _don't_ know. I only told Will's captain that we have a family emergency. I just thought…. I don't know, maybe I didn't think it through enough."

Reid was quick to assure her. "No, I think you're right. We _know_ Scratch. We know how he operates. It's better if we run it without interference."

Rossi's eyes went to the window.

"It looks like Prentiss and Alvez are here. I'll let them in."

A few seconds later, they preceded him down the hallway. Emily immediately went to JJ, who rose and hugged her good friend.

"We're getting him back," the unit chief assured all of them.

"Amen to that," seconded Alvez.

Reid filled his colleagues in on what he knew, turning again to make eye contact with JJ as he finished.

"Henry knows about strangers, and what to do if he's approached. We've even practiced it." Shaking his head at the idea that he should have felt the need to. "And no one from the school heard anything, so we don't think he cried out."

"Which means…." started Rossi, but Reid cut him off before the senior agent could conjure the image of an unconscious Henry.

"Which means that Henry either knew the person he left with, or thought he knew them."

"What does _that_ mean?" asked Alvez.

Emily knew. "We're dealing with Scratch here, remember. He could have given Henry a hypnotic suggestion."

Reid reached his arm around JJ once again, feeling her lean heavily against him. They'd both reacted to the idea of Henry possibly having been drugged.

"Not necessarily. Remember, the school let him leave. We need to find out why."

"Mama! Mama!"

The little voice preceded the little body by only a second, and suddenly Michael was in the room, running for JJ. Clare followed him by a millisecond.

"I'm sorry! I was changing his diaper, but….he's slippery!"

JJ smiled, in spite of the situation.

"Yeah, you have to pretty much sit on him, or he gets away. Don't you, little guy?"

Picking up her younger son, and nuzzling him against her neck. Watching, Reid saw the moment for what it was.

 _She's refueling. She's filling up on the love of her son, so she can go into battle for his brother._

Wishing he could do the same.

Clare looked quickly around the room, until her eyes settled on Reid, who reacted to her.

"Uh, everyone? This is Mary Clare Ryan. She's ….. she's a friend of mine."

Having obsessed on the event of Clare meeting JJ, Reid hadn't even begun to imagine her meeting the rest of his team. And now the moment was past.

Emily and Luke shook hands with the young attorney, each introducing themselves. Resuming his place, Luke gave Reid a look that said, ' _Well done, brother_.'

"Clare volunteered to look after Michael."

"Which I'm not doing very well, am I?"

Apologizing to JJ.

The blonde profiler dismissed it. "It's the age. His dad can't change his diapers, either. I just always thought he was faking it, so he wouldn't have to."

The toddler wriggled his way out of JJ's arms, and to the floor. He took hold of one of his mother's hands and started to pull her in the direction of the kitchen.

"Ugh, I forgot. Mikey, you're hungry, aren't you? It's dinner time."

Clare saw the opportunity to redeem herself and stepped in.

"Let me. I can find my way around the kitchen. If nothing else, I know a mean recipe for mac 'n cheese."

JJ looked a relieved thanks in her new friend's direction. "Would you?"

"Of course." Clare held out a hand to the toddler. "Come on Mikey, you can show me what you like to eat."

The little blonde wasn't quite comfortable being with strangers, but Clare wasn't entirely a stranger to him. And, besides, there was food on the line. Responding to encouraging smiles from his mother and godfather, he took Clare's hand and toddled to the kitchen.

Once the two civilians were gone, the BAU got back into mode. Emily began barking orders.

"All right. Luke, Tara's on her way in from doing interviews at the prison. I'd like the two of you to meet with our international team, find out everything they've got….even everything they _think_ they've got on Scratch. JJ, Rossi….Garcia is downloading video from the school surveillance cameras. I want you to go through it, frame by frame." Seeing the emotion on her old friend's face, she assured her. "You'll know. You will. If there's anything unusual, anything that stands out, you'll know it. But Garcia is worried about the feed. She thinks it might deteriorate, so she wants you to look at it on her own screens."

"But…" JJ's protest faded quickly. She understood the need and, God knew, she understood the urgency. She would have to leave Michael behind, with Clare. Her head fell into a slow nod. "Okay."

Lastly, Emily turned her gaze to Reid. "I need you with me. We're going to the NSA, and I won't mind rolling some heads, if that's what it takes. But I'll need your brain on this, Spencer. If they have anything, I'm going to need you to be able to analyze it. Can you do that?"

On any other day, the answer would have been obvious. But, given the emotion of this day, he had to speak it.

"I can."

* * *

Before leaving, Reid went to the kitchen and found Clare. She looked up from where she was sharing a plate of macaroni and cheese with her new best friend.

"Hi."

He smiled. "It looks like he's gotten over his stranger anxiety."

"Told you I'd studied child psych. He's too old for that. I think he just picked up on the tension in the room. Not to mention he was hungry."

Reid conceded. "I guess you're right. Listen, we need to get moving. I just…. I know you meant well, offering to take care of Michael. But…. are you sure you're still up for it?"

Wondering, even as he spoke, what they would do if Clare declined.

Her response told him she was just a wee bit annoyed that he would think she'd renege.

"I said I would, and I will."

His palms went up in a gesture of apology. "Sorry. I just didn't want to presume. So… you'll stay with him? Emily has a security detail setting up outside. The FBI had pulled them from all of us, but I don't think they'll give her a hard time about it now."

Clare's reassuring smile told him all was forgiven. She understood how much stress he was under. The last thing she would do would be to contribute to it. She rose, walked over to him, and pulled him into an embrace. As they released, she commissioned him.

"Go. We're fine. Find Henry, and bring him home."

* * *

Reid bid a quick goodbye to JJ as well, holding her close as he tried to fill her with an assurance he couldn't feel.

"We'll get him back. We're good at this. It's not like before. We know what we're up against this time."

He felt her trembling in his arms, despite the grim look of determination he'd seen on her face.

"Please God you're right."

Reid pushed her back, and held her at arms length, his firm grip stilling the shaking of her limbs.

"I am right."

 _I have to be._

 _Please, God._


	39. Chapter 39

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 39**_

Emily turned to study her companion in the passenger seat.

"How are you doing?"

Reid flashed her a quick look before returning his eyes to the road ahead of them.

"I'm fine. I can't afford not to be."

She took a few beats to debate whether to share with him what she'd been thinking. But the truth was that, if she was right, he had probably been thinking it as well. So she offered a bit of it, to see where it might take him.

"Scratch won't hurt him. Not yet, anyway."

she'd guessed right. Reid had already been there. "I know. He'll want an audience. Or he'll use Henry to coerce one of us into doing something."

Neither of them willing to speak the words he'd omitted. _'To Henry.'_

Peter Lewis had a history of taking delight in making his victims hurt those they cared about. It had been the motif he'd been perpetrating in the case where they'd first met him, and it was what he'd tried to do to Tara Lewis. If they hadn't spied the secondary trigger Scratch had set, the team's attempted rescue of Tara's brother would have led to his demise, right before her eyes.

The fact that the events in Reid's own case hadn't unfolded that way should have been a clue that it hadn't been Scratch who'd framed him. What had happened to Spencer had happened far from the eyes of his friends. There would have been no pleasure gleaned from watching him suffer until well after the facet. And, as tragic as the death of Nadie Ramos had been, she hadn't been an important figure in Reid's life. There had been nothing that should have led them to Scratch save the use of a hallucinogen, and a degree of paranoia brought about by the man's targeting of their former unit chief.

In apt demonstration of their long friendship, and of how symbiotically their thought processes came together, Emily spoke again to Reid, knowing he would understand where her mind had taken her.

"I'm sorry. We were stupid. We missed it entirely."

He shook his head. "I missed it, too. But I don't think we're wrong this time."

"No, we're not. He couldn't stand not being in the limelight, that's why he came after the rest of us with that truck, once you were back."

Reid spent a few moments pondering, then told her what he'd concluded.

"That's how we'll find him. We'll have to lure him out, publicly. It's what he wants."

Emily began to slow the vehicle. "Are you saying we should forget about the NSA?"

He thought about it for a few seconds. "Can they stop us from going public?"

"Who knows what they can do? We know they've already been in the FBI network, right? We think that's how the information was leaked to Cat Adams. If they realize Scratch is involved in this, and that we're on to him, they could try to quash it, because they'll be afraid of the fallout for the agency."

Reid nodded. "All right." He still wanted to bring their presumed NSA mole to justice, but not at the cost of saving Henry. "Let's go to the BAU instead. Garcia's going to have to find a way to get past any NSA surveillance to get the word out."

 _Or maybe not._ But he didn't voice that final thought.

"Agreed."

* * *

The turnaround cost them an extra thirty minutes, during which Reid called Garcia. His fellow godparent sounded distraught.

"Oh, my God, poor little Henry! My poor angel! I can't believe it! I…."

She would have gone on like that, if he hadn't interrupted her.

"Garcia…. Penelope…. Is JJ still with you?"

"I'm here, Spence."

Apparently on speaker. Reid's heart responded to the shakiness of her voice, and he wished he had some small bit of comfort to offer her. But he didn't.

"Did you see something on the security cameras?" Dreading the answer.

He heard her heave a sigh before responding. And then a second, and then it was Rossi's voice that answered. Reid closed his eyes in pain over the image of his ever-controlled best friend unable to control herself enough to tell him.

Rossi described what they'd seen.

"It's not the best system, so Garcia can't focus in enough for facial recognition. But there's a vehicle outfitted with overhead lights and what I'm guessing are some phony decals on the doors, made to look like a police vehicle, even though it's easy to see it's the wrong make and model. It looks like a male goes inside, and he comes out a few minutes later, with Henry. Only…."

"There's something wrong with him, Spence!" Her voice breaking. "He's practically tripping over his feet, and he's dragging his backpack on the ground behind him…"

The NASA backpack Reid had given him for the start of school. They both knew Henry wouldn't do that. He'd been too excited about receiving it.

Rossi's voice came back. "The guy practically pushes him into the car, and then takes off with him."

Reid's chest caught at the mental image of his beloved godson being mistreated.

Emily saw her friend's reaction, but they couldn't afford to give in to the emotion of it. Not right now. She tried to keep the conversation focused.

"So, Scratch impersonated Will, using a doctored up vehicle to make it look convincing?"

Rossi affirmed it. "That's what I'm thinking. So we need to decide if we bring Metro into this, because we won't be able to put out a BOLO without them."

Reid pushed his feelings aside long enough to offer direction.

"We need to control this. That means no one but the team, unless absolutely necessary. That also means leaving NSA out of it. Emily and I talked it over. We're on our way back to you."

He explained his thinking, and the idea of luring Scratch rather than trying to track him.

"We need him to think he's getting attention,without actually giving him attention. Garcia, that means that we need to _appear_ to go public, without actually doing so."

The tech analyst had calmed herself a bit.

"I'm open to ideas, Wonder Boy."

"Good. Okay, I was thinking…."

"Thank God. I'm glad at least one of us can."

"You're going to _have_ to Penelope, so whatever you have to do to get there, do it."

Brows went up on both sides of the phone call, none of them used to Reid being so firmly directive. But they also all realized that he was right.

"Yes, sir!"

The two words made him realize how he'd come across, and he immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't you dare be sorry. I needed a verbal slap in the face."

"Still….but okay, here's what I was thinking. We think Scratch was given information about us from our FBI files, which is probably how he knew about Henry's new school."

Glances exchanged in the BAU lair. Reid's words made it obvious that the mole had been at work very recently.

"We also think Scratch has had a way to hack our phones himself, right?"

"Right, but we changed our…"

He spoke right over Garcia. "I know, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been trying to hack the new ones. In fact, I'm sure he's been trying. So, we need to let him."

JJ caught on right away. "We'll let him see our texts and listen in to our phone calls. Pen can even insert a fake 'amber alert' on to our phones, can't you, Pen?"

Garcia was on it, relieved at the small glimpse of light that made the tunnel seem less eternally long.

"I can do that! But won't he realize that it's not a broadcast thing? I mean, his own phone won't get the alert."

Reid had thought about that. "I suppose you can't somehow rig it so that any phone in contact with ours picks up the alert? Like an Airdrop kind of thing?"

"Excuse me, did my I-love-to-inhale- the-paper-page-of-the-book friend just suggest Airdrop to me?"

Emily exchanged a smile with Reid. If Garcia was joking, she was back In the game.

"He did. So, can you?"

"You're talking NSA-level manipulation, sweet genius. But when have I ever shied away from a challenge?"

Rossi's voice came back, bearing an unwelcome tone of doubt. "So, we let him see that we're in communication about the abduc…. about Henry, and we think he'll reach out to us? Why?"

Emily knew the answer. "Because our texts will tell him where Reid will be, alone. The same with JJ. Assuming you're up for it, Jayje?"

They were all relieved to hear the determination returned to their colleague's voice.

"If it will draw that bastard out, I'll do anything. _Anything_ , for my son."

* * *

Arriving to the BAU, they went directly to Garcia's lair, where the others had been joined by Luke and Tara.

Reid went immediately to JJ, pulling her into an embrace, as much to assess the physical effects of the stress she was under as to offer her comfort. His hands felt the steady, nearly constant trembling of her entire body, and he instinctively wrapped both of his long arms around her, squeezing tightly, willing her to still. He knew her too well to think he was feeling fear, or despair. Rather, he recognized her trembling as a sign of barely controlled rage toward the man who was effectively separating her from her son. It was her way of achieving control, and he knew she would have to be in control, and to _feel_ in control if they were to win this battle.

"Anything?" asked their unit chief, looking toward the two agents who had consulted their international team.

"Nothing we didn't already know," answered Luke. "They lost him at the Guatemalan border, and haven't been able to track him since. It looks like we've got a better handle on him than they do."

Tara spoke up as well. She'd been uneasy about the plan, as it had been explained to her.

"Are we sure this is the way to go? If he gets the upper hand, there's nothing he would want more than to have one of you somehow hurt Henry."

Reid still had one arm around JJ's shoulders. "That's what makes us the two who can draw him out. He won't go after anyone who doesn't have as much to lose. It wouldn't feed his hunger."

"But it means we have to split the team, if we have to cover both of you. Maybe we should bring more people in." Tara still wasn't satisfied.

Emily and Reid had discussed this very thing, on the way to the BAU. But the ongoing presence of the mole, and the fact that they only had a presumption of the mole's identity, had precluded the idea of expanding the number of people in on the plan. Emily tried to assure Tara, as well as the rest of the team.

"They'll be within two miles of each other. Once he shows himself, it will be a matter of minutes before we can close in and throw the weight of the whole team at him. Despite all he's done, he is only one man."

Luke had another concern.

"It's been over two hours since he took Henry. More like three, actually. What's he been doing?"

* * *

"Pretty good, huh? Don't tell Spencer, but I make this for myself at least once a week. Don't want him to think I have an unsophisticated palate."

Clare felt comfortable confessing her love of macaroni and cheese to Michael LaMontagne, since she was fairly certain he wouldn't have the vocabulary to share the information with her boyfriend.

As soon as she had the thought, her mind challenged it.

 _Is he your 'boyfriend'? You've had some working dinners and maybe two so-called 'dates'. Is that all it takes to make it official these days?_

She didn't know, but she suspected 'official' was based more on feelings than numbers. And she'd found herself feeling more and more for the emotionally wounded FBI agent. He'd invaded her daydreams, and her night dreams, as well. She'd felt sorry for him at first, but in the days since, she'd come to admire him, and respect him, and rely on him and his wisdom, both about the work they did together, and about life. As they'd each shared their pasts in both small doses and large, she'd begun to understand just how much he'd had to overcome just to 'be', let alone to have become the man he'd become. Clare looked up to Reid, at the same time that she accepted the challenge of supporting him whenever he needed supporting. She'd come to see theirs as a mutually sustaining relationship. Having never been in one before, she'd come to relish this one.

She'd also seen a bit of the primary relationship in his life, the one he shared with JJ. And she'd been dissecting it ever since the brunch they'd all shared together. Before then, Clare had formed a mental image of Spencer's best friend, and had been a bit put off to meet the much more effortlessly attractive real thing. But she'd soon learned to look beyond the veneer and into the person within, and found a little bit of what had probably attracted Spencer. And then the two had bonded over their shared affection for and protectiveness toward the winsome profiler.

 _Still…_

She was still forming the thought when her rumination was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Having grown up in the home of a member of the NYPD, Clare was naturally wary, and the current circumstance had made her even more so. She left Michael in his booster seat, and made her way slowly down the hallway, toward the front door. The view from the sidelight panel showed her that the unmarked FBI car was still in place at the curb. She worried that something had happened, that they were bringing her news, which she could only pray wouldn't be bad.

 _Get a grip, Clare. Maybe they just need to use the bathroom or something._

So she was relieved when the person at the door flashed an FBI badge in the window. She threw the locks and opened the inner door, leaving the outer door locked as she spoke with the agent.

If it hadn't been such a warm autumn, maybe the screen wouldn't have still been in place. Maybe the storm windows would have done their job, and kept the storm outside at bay. But it _had_ been exceedingly warm, and the screen _was_ in place, and that meant that the barrier between Clare and the person outside was exceedingly porous. So porous, in fact, that the mist easily filtered through.

The last cogent thought she had, before she passed out, was….. _Stupid!_


	40. Chapter 40

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 40**_

If they were going to be convincing to Scratch, their choices of locations for Reid and JJ would have to be logical. After much debate, they settled on Reid's original plan of sending JJ back to her home, and Reid to the school, ostensibly as a location where he would interview any parents who might have seen Henry being put into the car. Anderson would bring Clare and Michael back with him to the BAU, where they would be safe until it was all over, while the others situated themselves to stake out the two locations.

As he drove her back to the house, Reid stole a look at his best friend, anxious for her emotional state, trying very hard to ignore his own.

"He'll be okay. Scratch doesn't hurt kids."

She knew better. "No, he just makes their parents do it to them." Bitterness infusing her words.

"We're not going to let that happen." He reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I love him too, JJ."

She squeezed back. "I know you do." She brought his hand into both of hers, and ran her fingers over his. "Listen, Spence….I want you to promise me something."

He glanced over again, puzzled. "Anything. What do you want me to do?"

She took a moment to gather herself before responding.

"If it's me he wants…..you need to let me do it."

"JJ…." He'd promised her anything…but not that.

"Please, Spence. The stakes are too high here. If we try to deceive him, or dissuade him, and he gets angry…..I don't want to even think about what he might do."

She was right, and he knew it. And she was, after all, an agent, just as he was. But he had spent a lifetime on the receiving end of malice, and as much as it had hurt him, it had also inured him. He'd a thousand times rather be on the receiving end once again, than to watch it happen to someone he loved. Let alone _two_ someones. That was its own form of malice.

 _Is this how it works? That the only way to hurt me more is to make me witness the pain of the people who make my life worthwhile?_

His railing at the heavens came to an end as they pulled up to the LaMontagne residence. Reid intended to outline the plan to Clare and apologize profusely for having gotten her involved in his perilous life. As he exited the car, he caught sight of the security detail in his peripheral vision, but knew enough not to give away their presence by acknowledging them. He followed JJ up the walk, and waited while she turned the key in the lock. But they both heard it even before the door was open.

Michael wasn't just crying, he was wailing, the unmistakable sound of terror and abandonment in his voice.

It sounded like he was just inside the door, so JJ pushed it open slowly.

"Mikey? Mikey!" She entered and bent immediately to her son, fallen in a heap on the floor of the foyer.

As she picked the toddler up, and he realized who it was, the wailing grew louder, and formed a word.

"Mommmmmyyyyy!"

"Shh, Honey, I've got you now."

Fighting tears at what he'd been through, anger suffusing her as she thought of him being so frightened and alone. JJ rocked him in her arms, tightening her grip.

"Is he okay?" asked Reid, as he began to search the house. "Where's Clare?" Instinctively knowing she wouldn't have left Michael of her own accord.

JJ called after him. "He looks okay. I think he's just scared."

 _Just like his mother._

Reid searched quickly through every room in the house, upstairs and down, including the basement. Nothing.

 _No sign of Clare. But no sign of a struggle, either. Or blood._

He ran again to the front window, as a thought occurred to him.

 _Her car is still there. She didn't leave on her own._

Through rising panic, he pulled out his phone, intending to try calling her, but stopped himself. He needed to think this through. It made no sense that Clare would just leave Michael alone, unless there was some kind of emergency….or unless something had happened to her. And, considering the circumstance, that 'something' was most likely Peter Lewis.

 _I have to be ahead of him. I can't go into a conversation with him without being prepared._

"Spence?"

Michael had calmed, but wouldn't allow JJ to put him down. She joined Reid at the window.

"Her car is still there."

Reid had already hypothesized about it.

"He had to be on foot. The security detail would have stopped him if he'd driven here, but he could easily have passed himself off as a concerned neighbor, if he walked up."

"It doesn't mean he's around here, though. He could have taken her out the back, through the yard, and to the next block, and picked up his car there."

"Agreed. Okay, listen, we need to be ready here. We thought he would come to us, if we just let it be known where we were, but obviously he wants us to come to him."

"Oh, I'll come to him, all right."

Reid was glad to see the mother bear part of her personality come out. It might have to remain in place for the remainder of whatever lay ahead of them.

"We need to get word to the others. You still have your land line, right?"

"In my bedroom."

Michael still wasn't quite calm enough for JJ to let go of him, so Reid went to make the call to Garcia.

"They have new encrypted phones, don't they? We're letting him see the old ones, but they've got new ones? You can still reach them without Scratch knowing?"

"Is the Pope Polish? Oh, wait…"

"Put me through, Garcia. Please."

A half minute later, he was conferencing with the rest of the team. He filled them in on what they'd found.

"We're assuming he wants us to come to him. I'm going to call Clare's phone….I don't see it anywhere here, so he must have it. I think he'll give us instructions then."

Emily started revising the team's plan. "Penelope, once Reid gives us the location, send us a satellite view. Spencer, JJ….don't go inside until we've had a chance to set up."

Tara didn't like it. "If they go in, won't that just give him two more hostages? We know how quickly he can incapacitate them."

"Uh…excuse me?" came the voice of their tech analyst. "Can't we get them some sort of gas masks or something?"

Rossi dampened her hope. "Scratch won't permit that. He'll threaten Henry and Clare until they take them off."

"Oh."

Luke had an idea. "Is there some kind of antidote you can take in there with you? Something that counteracts the drugs we know he likes to use?"

The two youngest profilers couldn't see Tara Lewis slapping her forehead.

"Of course! Yes, there is….physostigmine. I don't know why I didn't think of it. I can call a friend at the hospital to get some. The issue will be getting it to you guys."

Reid already had a plan. "Send it with Anderson. If Scratch has been monitoring our phones, he'll know we planned to have Anderson bring Michael and Clare to the BAU. We'll still need him to take Michael there."

Tara had something to add. "And, by the way, you can't use it until you know you need to. It has its own side effects, which include lack of coordination."

Reid was on board. "How is it given?"

"There are several forms, and we'll have to be very careful. A little goes a long way. In fact, since we can't be sure how much scopolamine he'll try to dose you with, we might want to go with the eye drops. You can titrate those a little better, and they're less likely to cause you problems."

JJ's voice came next. "We can't have Scratch watching us putting in eye drops. Would we get into trouble if we used some before we go in, whether or not it turns out we need to?"

Tara considered it. "I guess not. Not if you kept it to a drop or two. It's probably worth the risk."

"Okay," said Emily. "We have a plan, such as it is. Reid, are you ready to call Clare's number?"

"Ready."

"Okay. Keep the land line open, so we can listen in. Go ahead."

At the house, JJ and Reid shared a look, trying to reassure one another, even while not feeling the assurance themselves. Then Reid pulled out his phone and tapped Clare's number.

Maddeningly, Scratch made them wait until the fifth ring to answer.

"Hello, Dr. Reid," came the breathy, sinister voice. "May I take it that you have Agent Jareau with you?"

"We're here."

"What a coincidence. Ms. Ryan, young Master Henry and I are also 'here'."

Reid closed his eyes as he asked the next question, a silent, unwitting prayer to hear the right answer.

"Have you hurt them?"

He felt JJ lean against him as they both waited to hear the response, and he reached an arm around her shoulders.

"Hurt. Hmmm. I wouldn't say I've hurt them, although they've probably been more comfortable. But I'll let them tell you themselves."

They heard footsteps on a hard surface, then the whoosh of a door opening, more footsteps, and then Scratch's voice again.

"Anybody have anything they'd like to say to Dr. Reid?"

"Uncle Spence!"

JJ gasped. "Henry!"

"Mom? Mom! Mom!"

"Spencer! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Clare! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Mom!"

The voices faded, the door opened and closed once again, followed by the same sound of footsteps.

JJ leaned her head into Reid's chest and wept silently. Then Scratch's voice came through the phone again.

"As you can see…..well, that's not right, is it? You can't _see_ them, can you?"

"Don't hurt them! Tell us what you want us to do."

"All right. I'd like to invite you to come and see for yourselves that they are not harmed. That's not who I am, and it's not what I do."

Reid bit back an angry reply. He took a calming breath, and asked for a location. Scratch gave him an address in a neighboring town.

"We'll be waiting." Sing-songing the words. Then the felon abruptly ended the call.

"Did you get that, Garcia? What's there?"

"Satellite coming to your phones. Running a search…running… okay. It looks like it's a small strip mall property that was recently sold. Held a check cashing place, a laundromat and some kind of bodega or something. But it's empty now. All of the leases were voided."

Rossi's voice came over the phone.

"So, with no natural traffic in or out of the plaza, there's no option to blend in. But the satellite photo shows us a couple of spots to set up surveillance. Give us a two minute head start before you leave, all right?"

Reid responded for them. "All right."

Emily tried to encourage them. "Their voices sounded strong, I don't think he's done anything to them. He probably just has them restrained. Be careful going in there. Anderson is a minute out with the antidote. Take it, but let him think you've succumbed to the scopolamine. That's the only way he'll let you near them. Once you're inside, we'll find a way to follow."

"Understood. But be careful, Emily. He could have surveillance set up there."

"Ahem," came the voice from the BAU. "That's what your friendly neighborhood tech analyst is for. If there are cameras, I'll take care of them."

"Great. Good. All right, we'd better get going before he changes his mind."

"Good luck, you two. Remember, you won't be there alone."

Once the call was ended, Reid spent a moment tending to his best friend. He wrapped his long arms around her and held her in a long, tight, embrace. Then he took her by her shoulders, and held her away from him, so he could bend to gain her gaze.

"We're good at what we do. We're experienced, and most importantly, we're highly motivated. It isn't a matter of whether we save them. It's only about 'how'. We'll get it done, JJ. We'll get them home."

She crossed her arms and laid her hands over his.

"Amen. Let's go."

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, slowed a bit by the transfer of a frightened Michael to poor Anderson, they pulled up across a boulevard from the address. They'd spotted Rossi and Tara in their SUV a plaza down, and assumed Emily and Luke were nearby as well.

Reid turned to JJ, watching as she pulled out her vial of physostigmine.

"Ready?"

She nodded. Then she turned to him, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Remember what I asked of you? If he wants it to be me, please don't fight him. Let me do it. For Henry."

He'd gotten lost in the depths of those eyes more times than he could count, and he'd never been able to say 'no' to them. Not even once. Not even this time, though it pained him deeply. Instead, he swallowed his fear for her, and asked her to make the same promise.

"That goes for me, as well. The most important thing is to save them. Whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes."

He pulled out his vial, and they made a mock toast by clinking the two together. Then they let a drop of the liquid fall into each of their eyes, the maximum dose Tara would allow them. Once their vision cleared from the liquid, Reid pulled out of the parking lot and into the one across the way.

Scratch had only been specific about the plaza address, not the business. So they went into each in succession, searching. The corner store had only a few remaining shelves and what appeared to be a broken down refrigeration unit. In the space next door to it, the check cashing owners appeared to have moved everything out save two broken chairs. Neither space showed any sign of having been recently inhabited.

As they made their way back outside and to the door of the laundromat, JJ made certain they were in sightline of their colleagues in the plaza next door. If they needed help in a hurry, she wanted to be sure the team would know where to do.

"They see," she whispered to Reid.

"Good," he whispered back.

JJ cracked the door and then pushed it the rest of the way open with her foot, allowing Reid to rush the entrance. It looked like this had been the last of the businesses to close. Some of the space was in disarray, as though having been broken down, but much of it was still functional. Not only had the machines not yet been removed from the laundromat, they lined the two side walls, and nearly all of them were running. The sound prohibited them hearing anything else. The room also held a center counter, presumably for folding laundry, surrounded by a smattering of chairs. But none of those chairs were occupied, and it seemed as though this space was empty, too. Until JJ noticed a small sign next to an opening in the rear wall. It read 'Large Loads'.

 _There must be another space, with larger washers._

She turned to get Reid's attention, and was immediately alarmed. He was bent in two, breath heaving. When she ran to him, she could see he'd gone completely pale, and his skin was clammy.

 _Oh, my God-the smell of the detergent, the sound of the machines-he's flashing!_


	41. Chapter 41

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 41**_

"Spence! Spence!"

Unable to straighten him out, JJ got on her knees and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.

"Spence, you're not at Milburn. You're here, with me. It's just a laundromat. You're…."

She'd almost said 'safe'. But he wasn't. None of them were. And they were becoming more unsafe every moment this continued.

"Spence!" Her tone demanding now, with the authority of desperation behind it. "Look at me! Do it!"

He did.

"Good. Now, you're going to breathe with me. In and out, slowly. In and out."

She demonstrated, and he dutifully followed suit. As he did, she went through it with him again, softly now, assuringly.

"You just had a little flash because of the smell, but you're all right. It will pass. We can make it pass."

 _Please God, let it pass!_

To her knowledge, he hadn't had an episode for a long time now. She could only hope he hadn't been keeping them to himself.

 _It's probably the detergent. The smell is so powerful in here, it's like someone poured a whole box of laundry powder somewhere. No wonder he's reacting._

A moment's thought beyond that brought her to the conclusion that Scratch had probably done just that….spread detergent powder throughout the vacant laundromat.

 _He knew it would trigger Spence. But how?_

She'd forcibly slowed her breathing, setting the example so that his would slow in synch with hers. The process had a calming effect on both of them. JJ felt some of the frantic tension leave her limbs, and saw recognition come back into Reid's eyes. She lasered them with her own.

"Okay? Are you with me now?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I don't know what …." Interrupting himself, back in touch with his senses. "The smell. It's so strong!"

"I think he did it on purpose. I'm willing to bet that, if we look, we'll find powder everywhere in here."

She placed a hand over his heart, praying to find it beating in normal rhythm.

He understood the gesture. "I'll get there. Now that I know, I'll be able to control it."

"Are you sure?" _Do we need to abandon this plan?_

"I'm not going to leave you here with him alone. And I'm sure as hell not going to leave Henry and Clare to him."

He sounded so adamant, so authoritative, that she couldn't help but believe him. Believe _in_ him.

"All right, then, let's see what's back there."

Both of them were aware that Scratch had probably been watching the exchange, taking delight in Reid's flashback, and JJ's worried tending to him. But they couldn't afford to dwell on it. Anger and resentment could prove costly when they needed to be focused on the task at hand, as Scratch had probably intended. They moved forward cautiously, Reid keeping up with his deep breathing exercise, holding his demons at bay.

They breached the doorway at the rear of room with practiced skill, entering a space that was dark, and smelling even more powerfully of detergent. JJ prayed that Reid would be able to withstand the assault to his senses, and was relieved to hear the strength in his voice when he called out to their foe.

"We're here, Lewis, as you can no doubt see. Tell us what you want."

Within a few seconds , the air around them became moist, as though they were in a fog, and they both knew instantly that Scratch had emitted his usual miasma of chemicals at them.

"Welcome, Agents Jareau and Reid."

The voice came from overhead, telling them that Scratch was projecting it through a PA system.

 _He could have released the chemicals remotely, too_ , thought Reid. _He might not even be here._

The fact that he could decipher information like that told Reid that the physostigmine was working. He realized it was working for JJ as well, when she made an angry demand.

"I want to see my son! Now!"

The sinister, whispery voice responded. "As you wish."

JJ gasped as an overhead spotlight went on in the deep recesses of the space, illuminating the sagging figure of an unconscious Henry, bound to a chair.

"Oh, my God." Too thrown by the sight of her son to say more.

Reid instinctively reached out for her, partially as a gesture of support, and partially to keep her under control. His own heart had skipped a beat at the sight, but they couldn't afford to let Scratch get the upper hand at any point in this encounter.

He found his voice. "What did you do to him?!"

"No worries, Agent Reid. Or should I say, _Doctor_ Reid? Although he has no need of a doctor just now. He's merely sedated. I'm surprised that either of you would think anything else of me. I don't hurt children. They're so….innocent."

Reid gave it back to him. "That's right. You only hurt the guilty. Or those you've judged to be guilty. Right? So, do I qualify? Am I guilty enough for you? Hmm? Why don't you take me, and let Henry go?"

It was as they'd planned it, hoping Scratch would go along. But they were forced into their backup plan when their nemesis responded.

"You _are_ a guilty man, aren't you, Dr. Reid? But where is the satisfaction in doing harm to the guilty? Certainly not in killing them. Yes, there may be a brief period of pain and remorse, but then, it's over. There's hardly satisfaction in that. Definitely not justice."

"So what is it that you want, then?"

"I want to give you a _lifetime_ of pain, Dr. Reid. A _long_ lifetime of pain. I understand you have an eidetic memory. Surely, that will keep this experience alive in your consciousness for a very long time, won't it?"

The two profilers had been slowly moving around the room, exploring corners and crevices that were now exposed by the light over Henry. They exchanged a brief look that acknowledged they'd found nothing useful. Reid challenged Scratch again.

"What, exactly, is this memory you want to implant?"

A burst of diabolical laughter preceded Scratch's answer. "All in due time, Dr. Reid. You may need to put those doctoring skills to work before we're through here. But first, an exchange. You've appealed to my better angels, Dr. Reid. I will exchange young Master Henry. But not for you. I will exchange him for his mother."

The two profilers made eye contact. This was the scenario Reid had agreed to, even if he'd hoped it would remain theoretical. The look on JJ's face told him she would hold him to his agreement. Reluctantly, he nodded to her, and she responded to Scratch.

"All right. But I want Henry all the way out of the building before I set a foot forward."

Unamused laughter rang through the room.

"I'm afraid that's not how it works, Agent Jareau. You're not exactly in a position to deliver an ultimatum. _This_ is how it will work. You will put your weapon down, and then you will take a seat…here."

Another light came on, illuminating a chair directly beneath it, bindings attached to each arm.

"Dr. Reid will affix your bindings, and then I will permit him to release your son, and lift him from the chair."

"And bring him outside!" JJ was insistent.

Reid was torn. He didn't want to leave JJ alone with Scratch, and he still didn't know where Clare was. But how could he not bring Henry to safety?

Scratch's voice made the decision for him.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Agent Jareau. I've activated the charges attached to the exits of the building. Opening a door at this point will set them off. Young Master Henry will have to remain with us."

The two profilers spoke over one another, JJ shouting, "No!" and Reid challenging him. "Why should we cooperate with you if you're just going to blow the place up?!"

"It's not very professional of you to jump to conclusions. You're profilers, are you not? Does your profile lead you to believe that I have devolved into the mundane motif of employing explosives to appease my desires? Surely not. They are merely there to assure that we will not be interrupted in our little psychodrama."

Reid took a moment to process the information.

"If that's true, when will you let Henry go?"

"When I am satisfied with the outcome of our little experiment."

"What experiment?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Dr. Reid. Now, Agent Jareau, I'm beginning to lose patience. It would be best for you to take your place in the chair before I change my mind on the terms of our ….. agreement."

JJ squelched any fear she had for herself, and made one more demand, for the sake of her son.

"I don't want him to watch. Please, whatever happens….please don't make him watch."

There was an underlying hint of glee when Scratch answered.

"Are you begging me, Agent Jareau?"

It took her almost physically biting her tongue, but she gave him what he wanted.

"Yes…I'm….I'm begging."

She felt Reid's hand on her shoulder, squeezing support.

"All right, then. Dr. Reid may remove him to the front room. But that will require him being restrained again…unless you want to risk young Henry trying to open the door, and blowing himself to smithereens."

Reid's brain tried desperately to conjure a way for him to warn the team to stay away, in the few seconds he might be out of Scratch's sight. But there was nothing. He would have to count on their usual caution and watchfulness.

He heard JJ acquiesce to Scratch's plan, and then he felt her arms around him, clinging to him, holding him tightly. He returned it, an embrace meant to convey all of the things they wouldn't have the time, nor the words, to say to one another.

 _I love you. I understand. Please save him. Goodbye, my dearest, dearest friend. God be with you._

JJ let him go first, swallowing a sob. Then she sucked in a deep, heartening breath, laid down her weapon, and moved through the darkness, into the illuminated chair. Once she'd taken her seat, Reid followed her and, his trembling fingers fumbling a few times, attached her bindings. Then he moved to the sleeping Henry, and loosened his. He lifted the small body of the boy whose heart had so deeply touched his own, and carried him, head lolling, to the front room. There, under instructions from Scratch, he transferred the bindings and tied Henry to a leg of the center counter, and then returned to the back room.

"All right, it's done. Now what?"

"Not so fast, Dr. Reid. Don't you want to know about your girlfriend?"

Reid's gut clutched at the very thought of Scratch handling Clare.

"I asked you before. Where is she?"

"Right here, Dr. Reid."

A third overhead light illuminated a third chair, this one about eight feet from JJ. Clare looked to be heavily sedated, but otherwise uninjured.

"What did you give her?!" At once relieved to see her alive, and outraged that she'd been victimized by Scratch.

"Calm down. She's just had a little something to relax her. I'm sure you would be able to wake her, if you would like. Would you like to do that, Dr. Reid?"

"Spence…"

He heard the caution in JJ's tone, and knew what she was telling him. If he roused Clare, she might panic, and he didn't want her frightened more than was absolutely necessary. And, if he was honest with himself, he couldn't afford the distraction of worrying about her.

"No. Let her sleep."

There was a wicked smile in Scratch's voice. "As you wish. We'll wake her, soon enough. After all, we wouldn't want her to miss out on the fun."

Reid was angry now, becoming dangerously so, and he needed to calm himself down. The smell of the laundry detergent was no longer triggering his PTSD. It was bringing him back to his moment of resolve, the moment when he'd seen his way to safety in the prison, and his determination to accomplish it. He'd been regretting that moment as one of weakness, the highlighting of a fault line in the person of Spencer Reid.

But the only other option he'd had in prison was to have been the victim. Had he not become the aggressor, his psyche might not have been assaulted, but his body most certainly would have been. He wouldn't have been there for JJ, nor Henry, nor Clare. He wouldn't have been able to help Luis' family avenge his death. He wouldn't have been able to help the Innocence Project free the unjustly convicted.

 _You did what you had to do to survive. You did it because you knew you had more to give. More people who depended on you. Who loved you. More people you would come to love. JJ was right. She would have done it. And you would have thanked her for it._

In the split second it had taken his observer to lead the conversation, Reid knew. He knew he could be whole again. He knew he could forgive himself, for the sake of the greater good. And he knew that he could do it again, if he had to. He was ready.

"All right, Scratch. What do you want?"

"Don't be in such a hurry, Dr. Reid. Take time to smell the roses, so to speak. Sniff the air around you. Or have you already done that? Don't think I haven't noticed your lack of response to my little aromatic cocktail. I take it you've managed some type of filter? But, no matter, the ladies here will appreciate the …..perfume…you'll be creating for them."

"What does that mean?" Reid demanded to know.

"It's really very simple. We are going to recreate your handiwork from the prison laundry room. You know what I mean, don't you? The…..amendment…. you made to the supply of heroin. The one that nearly killed those who used it. _Those_ men had access to immediate medical care. But we don't seem to have any such thing here, inside this little laundromat."

Reid was incensed. "I'm not going to poison them!"

"Aren't you, Dr. Reid? Don't you want young Henry to grow up to remember you fondly? Or his mother?"

"I'm not going to hurt them!"

Scratch chuckled. "No worries. I never intended for you to hurt 'them'. You'll only hurt _one_ of them. Your choice, or mine?"

"I'm not choosing."

"Oh, yes, Dr. Reid, you are. You will choose young Henry….or you will choose between his mother, and your girlfriend."

Reid shook his head. "I can't."

"Ah, but you must."

"Spence…" JJ's voice broke through the cacophony of doubt in Reid's mind. "Choose me."

"No! JJ, no!"

A voice weakened by intoxication interjected, "Spencer…choose me."

Reid's eyes went immediately to the chair where Clare was bound.

"Are you all right?"

She winced as she opened her eyes to the piercing light from above.

"Foggy. Head hurts. Nothing else." Clare closed her eyes again, to ease the pain. "I heard him. Spencer, choose me. I have no one who depends on me."

Neither woman was anxious to die. But both were bent on removing the onerous burden of choice being laid upon someone they loved.

Scratch snickered.

"Such selflessness! However will you choose, Dr. Reid?"

Again, he refused. "I won't."

"Ah. Well, then, I _will_. You'll find your materials on the table in the far corner." Yet another overhead light fired. "To make things interesting, one beaker contains your preferred prison poison." Chuckling at his alliteration. "And the other, simple baking soda. Each will react. But only one will be toxic. If you won't choose who gets which, I will."

The genius brain had been calling upon every precious synapse, hoping for a solution. Once he saw the table, and the chemicals, he knew.

" _I'll_ choose."

Scratch sounded surprised. "Really, Dr. Reid? I didn't think you had it in you. All right. Get busy."

Reid made eye contact with each of the women as he moved toward the table holding the ingredients. His heart broke at the sight of Clare so desperately trying to wear a brave face, and then he caught the assuring gaze of his best friend. She may not have believed in the possibility of a good outcome, but she had deep faith in the heart of the man attempting to accomplish it. Reid tried his best to look confident, for the sake of all of them.

Once at the table, he started narrating his process, pouring out powder, adding liquid, trying to use his sense of smell to determine which beaker held the malignant compound, and which the benign.

"It's like a magic trick. Like sleight of hand. There's really not all that much to the chemical reaction. Just a lot of smoke, really. Smoke and mirrors, some would say. The chemical structure doesn't change dramatically. It's just that it effects a particular outcome."

"Enough talking, Dr. Reid. Your concoctions are ready. If you think you know which is which, make your choice. Who will get the toxic inhalant?"

Having finished the process of amending the drug, Reid brought himself up to his full height. "I do know," he said. "And I've made my choice."


	42. Chapter 42

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 42**_

"Guys? Anything?"

Emily Prentiss asked for a status update from Rossi and Tara, who'd gone to the rear entrance of the laundromat, while she and Alvez had gone to the door entered by Reid and JJ. It had already been well more than the planned ten minutes, and there had been no sign of anything happening within. They'd hesitated to breach, considering that there were civilians within, and who those civilians were, but Emily felt they could wait no longer.

"Nothing," answered David Rossi. "You?"

"Noth…wait….oh, my God, it's Henry! I can see him through the window. He's bound to the counter, and it looks like he's unconscious!"

Her whispered exclamations confirmed the need for caution. They couldn't afford to risk a child….and especially one they'd all come to love…..being hurt in crossfire.

Luke spoke up. "At least we know where Henry is, and where Scratch isn't. If the kid wakes up and starts making noise, it might draw Scratch into the room, and then we'll have a problem. Let me go in and get him out of there. Then we can find the others."

Emily agreed in principle, but not in the details.

"I should go in. Henry doesn't really know you, but he knows me pretty well. If he wakes up, we'll have a better chance of him cooperating if he realizes he's with the good guys."

"Emily's right," came from both Rossi and Tara, as Luke nodded his agreement.

"I'll cover you. Remember, Scratch is a techie. He may have cameras on Henry. In fact, he probably does."

"So, you're saying I should be fleet on my feet?"

Luke smiled at his unit chief's attempt at humor. "Something like that."

As Emily approached the door, Luke made a quick visual scan, looking for likely locations for camera placement. He'd found nothing, and was about to say so to Emily, when his peripheral vision caught something.

"Wait! Don't open that door!"

Emily pulled back her outstretched hand. "What?"

"There…do you see it? Just above the door, inside….a red wire."

She knew immediately what it meant, and called out over the comm link to the others.

"Don't go near the door! This one is wired. That one probably is too!"

"Emily," she heard Rossi say, "we don't have time to wait for a bomb squad. They've already been in there too long!"

Luke spoke up before the unit chief could answer.

"No need." Emily watched as he pulled a wire cutter from his vest. He smiled at the surprise in her eyes. "I'm always prepared. Old habit, from when Roxy and I were in Iraq. She sniffed, I cut."

"You know how to disarm this?" Happily astonished.

"Give me a minute, and I'll tell you."

Luke studied the situation through the glass of the door for a minute, and then gave his report.

"Disarming it won't be a problem. But getting at it will. It's rigged so that opening the door will trigger it. We've only got a few inches of leeway."

"How few? Can we open it at all? Do we need to break the glass?"

Rossi and Tara had come back around the building. The rear door was solid, offering no chance at seeing any explosives that might be there. He'd heard Emily's last question, and responded to it.

"If we break the glass, we'll lose the element of surprise. Considering we've got two civilians and two of our colleagues in there, surprise is our only advantage."

Luke agreed with him. "I'm thinking that, if I could get above it, maybe get on top of something, so I could reach it from the top side of the door, I would only need the width of the wire cutter. I think it would give us that much leeway."

Tara heard it. "You _think_?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. But it's a pretty educated 'think'. I'm willing to try it."

His unit chief wasn't as certain she was willing to let him, but the alternatives were few.

"All right. But be careful."

Luke grinned at her.

"That's what my unit commander used to say. Every single time."

Emily returned a shaky grin. "Well, you're still standing. So it must have worked."

"Ha. Okay, I need something to stand on. Can we back one of the SUVs up? I think the tailgate will be high enough."

Rossi complied with situating the vehicle, and then held his breath in concert with the others, as they watched their newest colleague risk his life. Luke pried the door open with a flat object that resembled a steel-reinforced credit card. Then he mounted the tailgate of the SUV, and approached the bomb from above. He used the wire cutter to push the door open as wide as it was necessary for the implement to clear the jamb. Then, with rock steady hands, he held the grip of the wire cutter outside the glass, slipping only the sharp ends inside. He manipulated them around the desired wire, and snipped.

A split second's pause, and all four of them resumed breathing.

Rossi patted Alvez on the back once he was on the ground again.

"Good work."

"Thanks."

With the explosives disarmed, they were free to enter the laundromat. Although Luke had found no evidence of cameras, they still knew it was possible Scratch had the area under surveillance, but thought it more likely that their unsub had decided to rely upon his booby trap, so he could give his full attention to whatever was going on with their colleagues and Clare Ryan. Regardless, they had to risk it.

Rossi took the point, followed quickly by Tara and Luke, providing any necessary cover for Emily, who entered last and went immediately to Henry. The child wasn't fully alert, but he'd begun to stir, and they couldn't afford to have him cry out.

"Henry, honey," she whispered, as Luke cut the ties that bound the youngster to the counter pole. "Henry."

Henry's eyes blinked open for a second, but closed again immediately. He seemed far from full consciousness. Emily signaled to Luke to bring the boy out to one of the SUVs, as planned. The newest profiler lifted his charge gently, and carried him toward the door. Tara Lewis joined him. It had been deemed too risky to leave Henry alone. Tara would stay with him, unless called back into action, while Luke rejoined Emily and Rossi.

Then they would go about assisting their teammates, and taking down their nemesis for good, hopefully before any harm could be done.

That was the plan.

* * *

Ten minutes ago, in the rear room, the lights had gone out suddenly, thrusting the space into darkness for a number of seconds. When they came back on, Scratch was in the room, holding a gun to the head of Clare Ryan.

Reid gave him a cold stare.

"I thought you'd come. You can't resist seeing your handiwork up close, can you?"

The sinister chuckle was becoming annoyingly familiar.

"It's _your_ handiwork I'm here to see, Dr. Reid. Shall we start the show?"

"What do you want me to do?"

" _Entertain_ me, Dr. Reid. I want you to entertain me."

Reid decided to parry, hoping to give the team more time to find a way to take Scratch down without hurting Clare.

 _It's been long enough. They have to had come after us by now._

Aloud, he challenged his enemy, adding just enough failing bravado to his voice to keep Peter Lewis interested.

"You find this entertaining? Forcing me to hurt someone I care about? Oh, yeah, that's right. You _do_. You're all about watching people inflict pain upon one another."

"Ah, Dr. Reid, you wound me! I've never been one to watch. Not the actual act, that is. I've always been much more fascinated by the effect. But, then, none of them have ever been quite so aware of what they were doing as you will be. I must admit, I do find the moment of surrender to be enticing. Sort of a main course, after years of appetizers, if you will."

"I won't."

"You won't? You would rather Ms. Ryan be hurt at _my_ hand than yours?" Touching the nozzle of the gun to the head of Clare, who was dumb-struck by fear. "Or have you decided to _spare_ your new lady friend? Maybe you've chosen to harm Agent Jareau instead?"

Moving over to put the gun to JJ's head. The blonde profiler stared forward in silent fury as she heard Reid respond.

"I won't give you anything to delight in. You want to see me fall apart, but you won't. I'll make the choice you've demanded, but it won't feed you. I'm too well trained, and too experienced, for that."

"Ah, that's right, isn't it? You _do_ have experience with tragedy, don't you, Dr. Reid? You've lost a father, a mentor….two, in fact," snickering as he recalled his success in chasing Aaron Hotchner away. "A girlfriend. You're about to lose your mother. And you completely lost your dignity and your reputation when you went to prison."

Reid chanced a look in Clare's direction, and was heartened to see that a defensive anger had replaced the fright in her eyes. It deepened as Scratch resumed his verbal attack.

"I can only imagine that losing another woman you care about will be but another drop in the bucket of your sadly miserable life. Isn't that right, Dr. Reid? Or is it just what you would have me believe? Enough of this! Place the beakers in front of the women. Choose wisely, Dr. Reid."

Slowly, Reid lifted the beakers from the table, and took a brief whiff of the solution within. Scratch derided him yet again.

"Ah, that's right. Wouldn't want to get them confused, would you, now that you've made your choice. Put them on the floor in front of them."

Reid did so, briefly making eye contact with each of the women. Then he stepped away, at Scratch's direction.

Scratch stepped over to Clare and cut the plastic tie holding her one of her wrists to the chair.

"Okay, Ms. Ryan. Have a sniff. And then take a drink." Stepping back behind JJ, holding the gun once again behind her head.

Clare was panicked, her implicit trust in Reid challenged by her mortal fear. When she failed to move, Scratch drew her attention to the nozzle of the gun now placed directly against JJ's head.

"Would you rather I end our little morality play with a decisive move?"

"No," her voice shaking, even on the single syllable. Reid's heart broke to hear it. But he was encouraged yet again when he heard her continue, in a stronger voice. "No, I'll do it. Don't hurt her. She has children who need her." Turning to Reid, she added, "Spencer….whatever you've decided….it's all right. I'll accept it. I know you would never have wanted this. Please don't regret it."

Despite his determination not to give Scratch the emotional fodder the unsub craved, Reid was shaken at the extent of her faith in him, and her willingness to forgive. He found out something about her in that moment, and about himself.

 _Why is it always when it's a matter of life or death?_

He tried to console her, as hollow as it might sound.

"I'm sorry this happened, Clare. I'm sorry you were drawn into this. I never would have wanted…."

She spoke over him. "It was my idea to take care of Michael, not yours. None of this is your fault, Spencer. Please believe that, no matter what."

JJ felt the cold steel against the back of her head, but was confident Scratch wouldn't pull the trigger. It wouldn't satisfy his twisted need to cause her to die so quickly. She called out to Reid.

"Spence… don't. Don't hurt Clare. I came here to save Henry, and I've done it. It's all right. You don't have to. You know what you mean to me. This doesn't lessen that. And I know what I mean to you. It's all right."

"JJ…"

"It's all right, Spence. I want you to be happy. Please be happy."

Her voice breaking on the last few words.

"Well, well, Dr. Reid. Two such noble women. However will you decide? That's right, I'm giving you a final chance. You can switch the beakers, just this one time. What will you do?"

Reid looked from Scratch, to each of the women, and then back again. Then he closed his eyes, in an apparent prayer for guidance. After that, he moved forward, and switched the beakers.

"Final decision?" An evil whisper.

Reid couldn't make eye contact with anyone at this point. "Final decision."

Scratch held the gun once again to JJ's head, and gestured to Clare.

"Consume it."

Tears rolling down her cheeks, free hand trembling wildly, Clare lifted the beaker from the floor. She raised it to her nose and inhaled, and then she drank the contents, reacting badly to the taste of them. The others watched expectantly, but nothing happened.

Scratch clipped one of JJ's ties, and then moved over behind Clare, holding the gun to _her_ head now. He gestured to JJ.

"It seems the reaction can take a bit of time. Why don't we use it wisely? There's no fun in your learning your fate by watching Ms. Ryan. No suspense. So it's your turn now, Agent Jareau. consume it."

JJ made long eye contact with Reid, who looked an apology to her, along with a reminder of their years of profound love and friendship. Then she bent, retrieved her beaker, inhaled briefly, and drank.

As with Clare, nothing happened. Scratch began to pace between the two women, scrutinizing them for minute signs of reaction. His body language told the profilers in the room that he was getting increasingly anxious, and both were alarmed to see his finger flexing on the trigger. Might he still shoot one of the women, who both remained bound in place?

He began to throw an angry accusation at Reid. "What did you do, Dr….."

Scratch was interrupted by the sound of one of the chairs shaking upon the tile floor. He turned to see the blonde profiler's free arm flailing at her side, while her bound arm and legs shook against the limbs of the chair. JJ's eyes were rolled back, her head extended, back arched against the chair. The sociopath moved to get a closer look at his vicarious handiwork.

"JJ!" Clare and Reid called her name at the same time. "JJ!"

It went on for a full two minutes, and then her body seemed to collapse in upon itself. Clare stifled a sob, while Reid hung his head in misery. And Peter Lewis cackled in delight.

"The lovely Agent Jareau. I have to admit, Dr. Reid, I'm surprised at your choice. My source material led me to believe that your close relationship with your fellow agent would trump the new one, with Ms. Ryan. But I suppose your recent experience with incarceration has taught you how fleeting freedom can be. How tenuous relationships really are. How one must take what is offered when it is offered. Could it be that our noble Dr. Reid has learned selfishness, while he was in prison?"

Despite his resolve to stand strong, Reid was shaken. Even though he'd known it would happen, seeing JJ like that, witnessing her seizure, hit him even harder than he'd expected.

But not so hard that he hadn't caught the fleeting shadow behind her. Behind Scratch.

A second later, the shadow took the form of Luke Alvez, already reaching to place a choke hold on his target, who still held his gun.

Reid called out a warning, hoping both of the women would be swift to react. "Fall back!"

It was the only direction they could go, to get out of the line of fire. Clare was a step behind, watching in amazement as JJ lifted her head and used it to propel herself backwards in the chair. A second later, Clare did the same. In that same instant, Luke wrapped his right arm around Scratch's neck. The unsub's itchy trigger finger fired a wild shot that would have hit either or both of the women, had they not removed themselves as targets. Then Rossi kicked the weapon from Scratch's hand, as Emily kept her gun trained at him.

"You're done, Lewis," said the most senior profiler, as he cuffed his prisoner. "You won't see the sky for the rest of your life, if I have anything to say about it."

Scratch was unrepentant. "I believe I've heard that before, Agent Rossi. And yet, here we are."

"This time, you won't have help from the NSA," said Emily. When a surprised look appeared on her opponent's face, she added, "That's right. We've got your mole in our sights. It's only a matter of time."

Reid ran to Clare and righted her chair, as Luke ran to JJ.

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

He grabbed the knife Scratch had used to cut the ties on the women's hands, and quickly cut the rest of her bindings, tossing the implement over to Luke.

Clare refused his ministrations. "Take care of JJ!"

Rubbing her freed wrists, JJ called over to her new friend. "I'm fine, Clare. There was nothing in it."

That confused the young attorney. She looked to Reid, not knowing what to think.

"That means….but I feel fine! Why do I feel fine?" Worried that, very soon, she might not.

Reid assured her. "There was only baking soda in both of them. Neither of you were ever in danger….well, not from the solution."

"But, how?"

JJ answered for him. "Spence gave us a clue, when he was talking about magic and sleight of hand. I knew that meant he'd switched out the powders. That's why neither of us got sick. But I had to fake it, to give the team more time."

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Emily. "But there was the little matter of a bomb, which someone…" thumbing over her shoulder to indicate Alvez, " … had to disarm."

JJ and Reid's eyes went wide. Explosives had been one of Derek Morgan's areas of expertise. In addition to his friendship, they'd missed his talent, in the time he'd been gone.

"Wow, Luke Alvez. Wait until Penelope hears about this!" teased JJ. Then she turned back to her unit chief. "Henry?" Trusting that he'd been well attended to.

"In the SUV with Tara. He wasn't quite awake before, but he might be now."

Before she headed out to see to her son, JJ stopped in front of her best friend. She'd seen just that little hint of hauntedness in his eyes.

"I was pretty good, wasn't I?" Going for humor, but getting only a small smile in return. JJ realized he'd been more impacted by her performance than either of them had expected. So she reached up, and hugged him, and whispered into his ear, as she did so.

"I know it was hard. It would have been hard for me to watch, too. But it wasn't real. I'm fine. And we both only did what we had to. All right?"

She felt his nod against her shoulder. "All right. Tell Henry I love him, will you?"

"I will," she said, as they separated. "But he'll need you to tell him, too. He'll need to see that you're okay."

He nodded again. "I'll be out in a minute."

Soon only Reid and Clare were left in the room. He stood before her, uncertain whether she would accept his comfort. She had, after all, nearly been killed because of him. And, to her mind, it might also seem as though she'd nearly been killed _by_ him.

"You okay?" Softly, probingly.

She sniffled. "Relatively, I guess."

He was encouraged that she didn't sound angry.

"Relatively?"

"Yeah, well, my heart is still beating inside my chest, even though I thought it must have jumped right through it a couple of times. My wrists are sore, and I did bang my head there, at the end. But I'm in one piece, and the bad guy is caught, and my boyfriend is a hero."

Reid smiled, at both the 'hero' and the 'boyfriend'. And at the fact that she didn't seem to blame him for anything.

"You're remarkably calm. Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"If you mean getting kidnapped by a sociopath, and threatened with death and destruction…..yeah, no, I'm pretty sure I've never done it before. But I've been in plenty of prisons, and jails, and even the courtroom can get pretty hairy, from time to time."

Reid smiled. "And here, I thought it was your NYPD genes."

She chuckled. "Those, too. Seriously, I'm only calm because it's over, and because I'm here with you."

That sounded like an invitation, which Reid promptly accepted. He pulled her into an embrace.

"For the record, I would never have hurt you. I would never have hurt either one of you. I would have made him come after me, somehow, if that had been my only choice."

"I know that. I have to admit that I wasn't quite sure, when it looked like you'd been forced into making that poisoned cocktail. But something in me always knew you'd find a way. I'm glad that something was right."

"Me, too."

Clare tilted back to look up at him.

"I think I'd like to kiss my hero, if he'll let me."

Reid smiled. "Pretty sure he will."

And so she did.

* * *

Outside, they found JJ holding a still groggy Henry as a paramedic checked him out. Once he was cleared, Reid insisted that Clare be looked at as well. She had, after all, been drugged, and suffered a head injury. As she was being examined, he made his way over to JJ and Henry.

"All good?"

"All good. He's getting more alert by the minute, and they said his neuro exam was okay."

"Thank God." Reid reached out and laid a loving hand on Henry's head. "I'm kind of glad he was out for most of it. Maybe he won't remember too much."

 _Maybe he won't get PTSD._

JJ's mind must have gone in the same direction.

"Spence, did you realize? You did all of that in a laundromat. I mean, sure, it hit you at the beginning. But then you recovered enough to come up with that ploy _and_ pull it off, _and_ save the day."

Now that she mentioned it, Reid did realize. "I had to, there was no other choice. But, you're right. By the end, I didn't even notice where we were. I didn't even smell the detergent any more."

"Do you think..."

"No. It doesn't work that way, even if I wish it did. There's no magically getting over it. But maybe I did take a step in the right direction."

"Always forward."

"Always forward. With my best friend at my side."

She grinned at him.

"And your _new_...friend?"

"And my _girl_ friend."


	43. Chapter 43

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 43**_

By the time he got home, it was nearly midnight, and Reid was exhausted. Physically exhausted, emotionally exhausted, cognitively exhausted.

 _I can't even think another thought. Which is a thought in itself, which means…._

Which meant he was about to launch into one of his insomnia-inducing internal monologues, and he couldn't afford it. Peter Lewis might have been on his way back to prison, but he'd managed to escape once before, during the mass escape several years ago. For all anyone knew, Scratch could have orchestrated the whole thing.

 _Because he was the one with minions. He was the one who had power over the people who should have had power over him. All he had to do was to threaten the NSA with disclosing that they'd covered up the murders for him._

A less exhausted part of Reid's brain knew that there had to have been more to it, because the NSA could just as easily have 'taken care' of Scratch while he was in prison, thereby eliminating the threat.

Hoping a hot shower would relax him, Reid did his best to wash away the stress of the very long day. As he lathered and rinsed, he thought about all of the relationships in his life that had been at risk today. Henry, and Michael, the two little boys who were still teaching him the size of his heart. JJ, who'd captured it over a decade ago, and who held a place of prominence in it still. And Clare, so newly embedded but, much to his surprise, so firmly attached.

The potential to have lost any or all of them clawed at him even now, after the threat had been removed. He was all too familiar with the pain it could have caused him. He knew each unique relationship could also leave a unique scar, in the separation. But he also knew there was a commonality to loss, a diminishment in the being of the one left behind. He'd felt it with Maeve, and he'd felt it with Gideon. It wasn't just about losing them in the moment…it was about losing the future he'd thought he would have with them. About losing the present as he understood it. About losing the self he'd defined by his relationships with them.

He'd been devastated by the loss of Maeve, rocked on his foundation by the loss of Gideon. He couldn't fathom surviving another loss. He'd surrendered a piece of himself to each of those prior losses. Anything more, and he would lose his integrity as a person.

 _Who am I kidding? I lost it in prison._

As soon as he recognized the thought, he shut it down. He'd worked long and hard with Anna Hughes to rebuild his shattered ego, received too much love and acceptance from JJ, and even from Clare, to fall back into a space of self-condemnation. Even if he wasn't still quite sure he could respect himself, he had too much respect for the women in his life to allow that to happen.

But shutting down a thought process wasn't so easy, especially with a mind like his. He could never just turn it off. He had to feed it with something different, find some alternative stimulus. So he rummaged through the pile of books on his coffee table, and settled on one he'd taken down from his bookshelf after his last visit to his mother. It had actually been one of her books, damaged by water when she'd accidentally flooded his apartment. Reid had planned to replace it for her, until he saw it among the books the mysterious donor had given to Mountain Laurel.

 _You never did thank him, did you?_

Making a mental note to do so the next time he saw Rossi. Reid opened the heavy volume, and found one of the medieval romance stories his mother used to read to him. It was so familiar to him that his mind read ahead of his swiftly moving fingers, and he found himself lost in the story of ill-fated love. So lost, that it overshadowed the turmoil of the day, and the anticipation of what was to come, and his brain at last permitted the conducive balance of neurotransmitters, and he fell asleep.

* * *

Morning came too soon, and with it, came a text from JJ.

EMILY GAVE ME THE DAY. NEED TO BE WITH MY BOYS. HENRY REALLY WANTS TO SEE YOU. CAN YOU STOP BY?

Henry hadn't quite been alert when Reid had last seen him, but he understood the youngster had been checked out at the hospital, and cleared to go home. After what they'd all been through, Reid needed to see his godson as much as Henry needed to see him.

I'LL CLEAR IT WITH EMILY. BE THERE SOON.

But not before checking in on Clare. Last night, she'd insisted she was all right, but he'd seen and felt the fine trembling of her body. She'd been feeling the euphoria of relief, but he knew it would evaporate with time, and would leave space for her to revisit her trauma. He texted her first, so as not to wake her if she'd managed to get some sleep. When she replied right away, he put through a call. He wanted to hear her voice.

"Hello, Spencer."

"Hi. I, uh…I just wanted to see how you were doing this morning."

After a moment's hesitation, she responded. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. I mean, I'm up and dressed for the office. But I'm exhausted, because I was up most of the night with my mind racing. It's still pretty much racing now, and I haven't even had coffee yet."

Old habit presented itself, and he fell into giving her the scientific explanation.

"You're still having an adrenalin rush. It's the 'fight or flight' response, but your fight went on for a long time. It will be a little while before the hormone is back to normal levels."

"Is that why I'm still shaking?"

"Probably. Listen, Clare, I think Emily wants to meet with you today. You know, to debrief. It might help to debrief with someone else, too."

She'd known the FBI wanted to speak with her, but didn't understand Reid's last few words.

"Like whom?"

"Umm…well, you know I've been meeting with a therapist, right? She's helped me tremendously, and I thought maybe we could have you speak with her, too. You know, sort of as a prophylactic measure. Give you some tools for things like sleepless nights."

"You think I have PTSD?"

"No. But you've definitely had a trauma, and I thought maybe it would help to have some coping strategies up front."

"Spencer, I'm pretty familiar with PTSD. The vast majority of my IP clients have had it. That's why I was able to talk you through it that night. You remember, when you called Luis Delgado's mother."

He remembered it all too well. He'd been dreading the time when he might have to relive Luis' death in a public setting, should the wrongful death suit come to trial. But he knew, from personal experience, that Clare was wrong. Being able to recognize PTSD in someone else was entirely different from being able to recognize the onset of symptoms in oneself. Which is what he told her.

"So, if I can get an appointment, can I take you to see Anna?

A long pause ensued, during which he could picture her arguing both sides of the decision with herself. He smiled, remembering the many times he'd seen her do exactly that, as they'd reviewed potential IP cases together.

"All right. But…will you come with me?"

"Absolutely. Although I think she'll want some time alone with you, too."

"Conceded."

Reid smiled again, at the legalese invading her speech.

"Okay, Attorney Ryan. I'll call her as soon as her hours begin. I have to stop and see Henry first, but then I can pick you up and bring you in to the BAU with me. You can meet with the team, and then maybe we can see Anna."

"Okay. I'll be at the office."

He was surprised. "Are you sure you're okay to go in?"

"As opposed to staying home and reliving it? Yes! I run into some bad guys in my job, you know, but they don't seem to compare with the ones from your job. I'm better off going in and getting something done."

He smiled, though she couldn't see. "You're pretty tough, Mary Clare Ryan."

"Only way to survive in a house full of brothers."

* * *

The door opened even before he'd made it all the way up the walk. Michael, apparently recovered from the fright of being left alone when Scratch abducted Clare, was all smiles. He jumped up and down in anticipation of being lifted by his godfather, who gladly complied. Reid held the boy close, relishing the tightening of tiny arms around his neck, and the hot breath in his ear, thankful that the boy seemed untouched by what had happened to those around him.

As he held Michael, his eyes took in his older godson. Henry stood back, waiting, eyes fixated on his godfather. Eyes so big, and blue, and so like those whose depths he'd plumbed for over a decade. But, this time, the eyes were solemn, and still, and Reid could see that they were developing their own depths, born of sorrow, and fright.

Gently, he put Michael down, and sent him in search of his mother. Once the toddler was gone, Reid approached his older brother. He squatted down, marveling briefly at how much less of a squat it took, as Henry was growing into the long, lean look of his mother. His face now level with Henry's, Reid had intended to ask the youngster how he was doing. But those blue eyes had already answered the unspoken question, prompting Reid to simply open his arms. And Henry walked right into them.

By Reid's calculation, he and Henry had shared well over a thousand hugs. But none like this one. This one held a lingering fear, and gratitude, and a sense of world-weariness that no nine-year-old should know. Even if the adult involved had also once been such a nine-year-old. Reid wrapped both of his arms all the way around Henry, and held the boy close. If he could have used those arms to squeeze the memory of the day before from his godson, he would have. Instead, he used them to convey love, and assurance, and the promise of a future without people like Peter Lewis in it.

He whispered into Henry's ear as he held him.

"He can't hurt you, or your mom, or Clare, or anyone else, anymore. I promise you that."

When Henry didn't respond to him, Reid added, "You were awesome, Henry. When the team got there, you didn't panic. You kept your head, and stayed quiet for Emily. You did everything right, Buddy. I'm so proud of you."

Henry released the iron grip he'd had on his godfather, and leaned back, still resting in Reid's arms.

"But I was scared! I knew he wasn't telling the truth about working with Dad when he came to my school, but my mouth wouldn't work, and I couldn't tell anybody!"

Reid tried to calm him. "It's all right, Henry. He blew something into your face, didn't he?"

The youngster's face reflected his attempt to resurrect the memory, and then the look of discovery.

"Yeah, he did! How did you know?"

"It's what he does. That's how he keeps people from getting help. He does it to everyone, Bud, not just you. But not everybody can remember it like you can. Guess that means your memory is pretty strong."

That won a small smile, encouraging Reid to continue.

"Do you remember what happened at the laundromat?"

Henry nodded. "He tied me up, and then he left. Well, I don't remember him tying me up but, when I woke up, he was gone."

Reid wanted to kick himself. He'd never even considered that Scratch had left Henry alone in the abandoned store when he'd gone back for Clare.

 _He must have been terrified._

Reid pulled Henry close once again, more for his own sake than for the boy's.

"No wonder you were scared."

"It was dark, and I couldn't really see. So I just yelled as loud as I could."

Reid tried to tease him. "That's pretty loud."

"Yeah, but nobody heard me. But then I heard somebody come, so I yelled _really_ loud. But it was him. He told me, "Shut up!""

"He had Clare with him?"

"Yeah, but she wasn't awake. He was pulling her. Then he put her in a chair, and she started to wake up, and I yelled to her, and she opened her eyes."

"She saw you?"

"Uh-huh. And she said, "Don't worry, Henry, Uncle Spence will find us." Or that's what I think she said. She didn't get to finish, because he sprayed something at her, and she fell asleep again. And then he did it to me, too."

Reid's voice was gentle, hopeful, as he asked, "Is that all you remember?"

"I woke up a little in another room, and I heard you talking, but I couldn't see you. I was happy, because I knew you were there to save us. And I think Aunt Emily was talking to me a little bit, but I'm not sure. I only really remember waking up, and Mommy was holding me."

Reid closed his eyes in relief. Perhaps Henry hadn't been too badly traumatized.

When he opened his eyes again, JJ was there, having obviously listened in on their conversation. Her own eyes were full as she stood behind Henry, her hands on his shoulders.

"You're right, Henry. Uncle Spence _did_ save you. He saved all of us."

The boy gave his godfather one more squeeze, this one full of admiration, and pride, and, still, gratitude. And then he ran off to finish his pancakes.

JJ replaced him in Reid's embrace. The two stood, silent, holding one another, lost in the relief they hadn't been able to share the night before.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I count on it. And, I love you, too."

"You really did save us, Spence."

" _We_ saved us. It wouldn't have worked if you hadn't understood what I was trying to do. It took both of us."

"Please remember that the next time you're thinking we don't need you, okay?"

His squeezed his affirmation. As they released, he asked, "How is he really?"

JJ shrugged. "He slept with me last night. They both did. Honestly, I don't know which of us needed it more."

He smiled. "It sounds like he might be okay. But I think it might be best if he talked to somebody."

JJ agreed. "They finally got hold of Will. He's coming home today, which will help a lot. But I've already made Henry an appointment for tomorrow."

"How about Mikey?"

"He doesn't seem too impacted. He woke up this morning thinking we were having a party, because we were all in bed together."

Reid laughed. "Thank goodness for small favors. Listen, I need to pick Clare up on my way in. Emily wants to debrief her."

"Should I come in?"

"I don't think anyone expects you today. Stay with the boys, be with Will when he gets here. I can fill them in on anything they want to know. We were together the whole time."

JJ grinned, and tipped up to kiss his cheek.

"Please give my best to Clare. I'm so glad she's okay. And I'm glad she was able to give Henry even a moment's comfort."

"Will do. Call me if you need me."

* * *

Congested city streets demanded a drive-by pick up at the Innocence Project office. Reid studied Clare as she walked from her building to the curb.

 _Same confident gait. Well-dressed, and she took the time to make herself look beautiful._

Smiling to himself, in spite of the situation. He'd told her that very thing the last time he'd taken her to dinner, blushing as he'd offered the compliment, and feeling tickled when she'd blushed in response.

"Hi," he greeted her as she opened the door.

"Hi," settling into the passenger seat. "How's Henry?"

"Henry sends his love, as does JJ. And I'm sure Mikey would have too, but he was too busy eating pancakes."

She laughed. "Kids. They're so resilient." A certain tone of wistfulness infusing the words.

Reid assured her. "He'll be okay, and so will you. I called Anna. She can fit you in this afternoon."

When she didn't respond, he flashed a look in her direction.

"You're not okay, are you?"

Clare shrugged. "I thought I was. But I was ready to jump out of my skin on the Metro today. There were just so many strangers, you know? And any one of them could be…."

A strong hand reached over and clasped hers.

"It's only natural to react to what happened to you. But you're taking the right step in talking to Anna. Even talking to the team today might help. You know, get it out, put it into words. We can tame the things we can name."

She smiled at him. "Is that some sort of motto?"

He smiled back. "It's Spencer Reid's motto. I learned it the hard way. Might as well share."

* * *

The rest of the team, minus JJ, were already at the BAU. Reid brought Clare up to Emily's office, where they were joined by David Rossi. Emily officially secured the young attorney's agreement to speak with the team as a whole.

"Great. We'll meet in the conference room. Dave, would you bring her there, and I'll have Garcia round the others up. I just need a minute with Spencer before we join you."

Clare succumbed easily to the Rossi charm, and headed off with him, leaving Reid to turn inquiring eyes toward Emily.

"What is it?"

"You remember what you told me last night, after it was all over? Well, I looked into it. More precisely, I had Garcia look into it. And I think we may have something."


	44. Chapter 44

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 44**_

Clare and the team were waiting for them, but Reid had to know what Emily meant.

"Are you talking about my journal?"

Emily nodded. "Yes. You said Scratch knew things that you'd never said aloud."

Reid interrupted her. "Cat knew some things, too. Things that Wilkins could only have known if he'd read my journal. But it was the other guard who confiscated it. Until last night, I thought it was just the two of them, working with Cat."

Emily understood. "Until you found out that Scratch had information from it, too."

Reid shook his head. "There's more to it. I was sure there had to be a mole when Lyndsey knew enough to find me in Mexico. But I didn't realize the extent of the connection to Milburn until the information from my journal was used by Cat to torment me."

Emily's keen eye took in the image before it. Spencer Reid was animated in a way that she hadn't seen for nearly a year. His features reflected the process going on within him, the assembling of puzzle pieces to formulate a theory. It brought a small smile to her face.

"What?" He'd noticed.

"Nothing. You just…well, you look like you. And you _sound_ like you."

He gave her a look, and responded with, "I _am_ me. I don't know how to be anyone else."

The words purposely evoked a memory that flashed in both minds at once, and they celebrated with a hug, before getting back to business.

"You know," offered Reid, "it was the journal that set me off with a flashback for the first time. More precisely, it was the _absence_ of the journal. I was looking for it in the bag of belongings they'd given me from Milburn, and the memory overtook me, and I was out. Since then, it's been just outside my cognition. But, when Scratch tried to taunt me with what had happened in prison, I remembered it. And I remembered that it was still missing."

Emily understood what he was saying.

"So the guard who took your journal never turned it in."

"Either that, or he turned it in, and someone else removed it. I was hoping that's what you were referring to, when you said there'd been progress."

Emily waggled her hand back and forth. "Yes and no. Garcia found a rather large deposit into the guard's credit union account a week before you were released. Does that jive with when he took the journal from you?"

"Yes. But here's the thing: he never should have taken it. We were _allowed_ paper and pencil in Milburn, but he insisted it was contraband. I even argued with him that my group therapist had recommended that I journal, but he didn't care about that."

Emily thought it through as she spoke.

"So, he created a fake prison protocol to get your journal away from you. But how did he know there would be anything of worth in it?"

"I think Wilkins always suspected I'd had something to do with the tainted drugs, because they came through the laundry while I was working there. He probably figured there would be something in the journal about it."

"Was there?"

Emily's gaze was steady. They'd never quite had this conversation.

Reid didn't want to jeopardize the rising career of his old friend. As much as he would like to unburden himself with her, he knew he couldn't.

"Emily…."

She shook him off.

"I've already committed myself to you, Spencer. From that first day, back in Mexico."

He was puzzled, and it showed on his face.

She could have simply moved on, but Emily Prentiss felt like she'd failed Spencer Reid a host of ways over the course of his ordeal. She needed him to know the one, small, way in which she hadn't. _And_ that she would never fail him again.

"You were just beginning to come back to yourself, and I thought it was important to collect whatever memories you could provide, so I wanted to interview you. The police captain reluctantly agreed, but only because I promised to record the interview. I knew you weren't fully alert, I should never have done it. But.."

"No, you were right to try to recover a fresh memory, I get it. I just don't remember the interview at all."

"That's because you were still dazed. If it had been anyone else but you, with your brain, I wouldn't even have tried it. But it _was_ you, and I did."

"And?"

"And you remembered your hand on the knife that killed Nadie Ramos. I knew it couldn't have happened that way, and I wasn't about to let that Mexican police captain hear it and think otherwise. So, when he asked me, I told him I'd decided you were still too out of it, and that I hadn't made the recording."

Reid was beginning to understand what she'd done. "But you had."

She nodded. "I deleted it. He probably could have confiscated my phone and still found it somehow, but he chose not to. I lied right to his face, and I know he knew I was lying. To this day, I don't know why he let it happen, but he did."

"Thank God. That might have put me away for good."

"Amen to that."

"All right then, I guess I can't make it any worse. Yes, there was information in the journal that could hurt me. I was stupid to write it down, but I needed to get it out from inside of me, if you understand that."

She did. "Poison comes from within, as well as without."

It was as though she'd been able to see right through him, in the same way that she had so many years ago, when he'd dealt with a poison of a different kind. She hadn't betrayed him then, and he knew she wouldn't do so now, either.

"Let me talk to Scratch. I know he's got information from the journal, but I want to know if he's been in possession of it. If he has, it ties him directly to the prison. Right now, we only have our suspicion."

"But you're a victim…."

He spoke right over her before she could finish. "He tormented me, but it was the _rest_ of the team he tried to kill. Of all of us, I am arguably in the best position to deal with him."

Before Emily could answer, they were interrupted by the arrival of a tornado on heels.

"I've got it! I've got it!"

"What have you got, Garcia?"

The blonde head whipped sideways, looking for the source of the voice. She hadn't seem him yet today.

"Oh, my God…" wrapping her arms around him, "thank God you're okay! And thank you, thank you, thank you, for saving my sweet little Henry boo!"

Reid extracted himself before having the breath squeezed from him.

"We all played a role in that, Garcia. Now, what have you got?"

"Huh? Oh, right. I've got another connection at the prison. Really, it's a wonder you got out of there at all! That skanky guard who stole your journal? Guess whose brother-in-law he is!"

Reid and Prentiss looked to one another, before she responded. "Well, I'm guessing we would already know if he was connected to Wilkins. And there had to have been a reason why Reid was kept in gen pop. So…the warden?"

"B-I-N-G-O! But the warden didn't pay him off, at least not from any accounts that I can find. I'm still trying to track the source of the money."

Emily patted her tech analyst on the arm. "Great work, Penelope. Listen, would you go and tell the team we'll be right there? We just have to finish something up."

"Will do!" And she was gone.

Emily looked at Reid. "There aren't many people who can hide the source of a money transfer from Penelope Garcia."

"There aren't many _entities_ that can do it, either."

"You're thinking…"

"It was a good sum of money, with a hidden source. Yes, I'm thinking of our friends at NSA."

She thought about it for a minute. "All right. I'll let you have a go at Scratch. I'll be watching, but I also want to bring JJ in for it. She was with you in the laundromat, and when you were with Cat."

She didn't say it, but that meant that JJ already knew whatever damaging information was in the journal. The two of them could still help to protect him.

He'd made the leap with her.

"All right. Let's talk to the team. And then, if it's okay, I'd like to take Clare home, with a stop on the way. She's agreed to talk with Anna Hughes."

Emily nodded. "Good idea. It will take a few hours to arrange things with Scratch anyway. After we debrief Clare, go, do what you have to do, and then we'll go and see if we can make our Mr. Scratch feel an itch."

* * *

Reid was proud of how well Clare comported herself throughout the debriefing.

 _Maybe it's her experience in court. Or maybe she's just able to regroup better than most people._

But then, he noticed a change in her tone, and just the slightest tremor of her hand, as she reached for her tea. He ran his eyes around the rest of the team, but no one else seemed to have picked up on it.

 _I guess I'm just getting more attuned to her mannerisms, and her moods. I can read her better than they can._

Still, she made it through the most intense part of her story, which was the recounting of the moment she realized she'd let the felon into JJ's house, and put herself and Michael at risk.

"I felt so foolish. I mean, I'd volunteered to look after Michael so JJ could go for Henry, and I put both of us in danger!"

Reid couldn't stop himself from assuring her.

"You didn't put anyone in danger, Clare. Please don't take that on yourself. You checked his ID, just as you should have. You couldn't know he'd created a false one."

Tara spoke up as well. "He's right, Clare. You took precisely the precaution anyone would have expected you to take. Peter Lewis is responsible for what happened afterward, not you."

Clare sent an appreciative look to both her boyfriend and his teammate.

"I'll try to believe that. It's just….never mind. You don't need to hear about my feelings. You need the facts."

Which she provided, leading up to the point where she'd been sedated by Scratch, prior to JJ and Reid's arrival. Once she was finished, Emily issued a formal word of thanks, and nodded to Reid, to indicate that the two were free to leave.

"Give me a call when you're ready. I've already submitted a request."

"Got it. Thanks."

As he escorted Clare back to his car, Reid slipped an arm around her shoulders. He sensed the continued fine trembling, and squeezed his assurance.

"You did great. I could see when it got hard, though."

She looked up at him. "You could?"

"I heard it in your tone. But you didn't let it stop you. You're pretty tough, Mary Clare Ryan."

She leaned into him. "I wish. I was shaking the whole time."

He looked down at her. "You still are. Which is why we're going to see Anna Hughes right now."

"You know I was skeptical, right? About seeing her? But it turns out you're a wise man, Spencer Reid. I think I might really need her."

She stopped then, and turned to face him.

"Just like I need you, too."

Reid smiled, and drew her close, and held her.

"You have me."


	45. Chapter 45

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 45**_

"Thank you, Spencer. I'm glad you didn't let me refuse to see Anna. As painful as it was to talk about, I feel like I have a little bit of a handle on what to do if I start feeling overwhelmed. She's really wonderfully helpful."

He agreed, as he escorted her up to her office. "She's done a lot for me, both this time, and the last time."

Clare turned to him. "That last time?"

Reid suddenly realized how much of his life he had yet to share with Clare. And he was surprised to realize how much he wanted to.

 _I can feel something growing between us, something beyond mutual dedication to a cause, or mutual relief at having survived something. I really like her. And I think she really likes me._

Which had been a rarity in his life, outside of his friendships with his team members, and a very few others. Throughout his years, he'd become accustomed to feeling tolerated, or studied, or even targeted, but he'd rarely felt 'liked'. That he should feel that way with someone who'd met him at one of the lowest periods of his life was remarkable. That he and Clare had also developed a mutual admiration and respect for one another was exceptional. Validating. Fulfilling. A firm foundation for something more.

"I'll tell you about it, but I can't right now. I need to meet JJ at the prison. We're going to talk to Scratch."

Clare shivered. "Ugh. I can't imagine having to be in the same room with him again, especially so soon. Are you sure you're up to it? Is JJ?"

"It's our job. And I think I'm probably the best positioned to draw him out, right now. We need some specific information from him, and I think I know how to get it."

Clare tilted her head, thinking. "Does it have anything to do with why you ran back to get something from your desk?"

She hadn't been able to see what it was.

"It has everything to do with it. If I'm right, it will confirm a broader conspiracy against the BAU, and might help us identify more of the people involved in it."

"Okay, then, you'd better get going." She tiptoed up to kiss him. "Good luck. And please, be careful."

He accepted the kiss, and returned it in kind.

"Can I take you to dinner tomorrow? I'd say tonight, but I don't know how long this will take. And, besides, you're probably exhausted from the whole thing."

"As are you, I'm sure. I'll tell you what, let's keep it low key. I'll put something together, and you can come and relax at my place tomorrow night."

He grinned. "That sounds delightful."

 _Indeed._

* * *

"I'm sorry you got called out again," Reid apologized to JJ. "I probably could have done this on my own, but Emily insisted."

"It's fine. Henry seemed better after your visit this morning, and now Will's home, so I felt comfortable leaving them. They were all involved in some humongous Lego project when I left the house."

Reid smiled at the image. "Mikey, too?"

JJ laughed. "You will be proud to know that Henry followed your example. He put Mikey in charge of sorting all of the blocks by color, which is keeping those devilish little hands busy and out of the way."

Reid made a show of polishing his nails against his shirt. "My protégé."

As they went through the security process at the prison, JJ reviewed what she understood.

"So, you think Scratch somehow got hold of your journal? You think he has it stashed somewhere?"

"I don't know if he actually has possession of it. But he knows too much of what's in it. Either someone passed the information to him, or he's seen it himself. That's what I want to figure out."

"What's the difference?"

"If he just has information from it, he could have been told that information by the guard who took it, or Wilkins, if the guard shared it with him. Or by the warden, or even Cat. But, if he's actually laid eyes on it, there has to have been a physical transfer of the journal. That means a direct pipeline from the prison to a known serial killer."

"Wouldn't Cat make that list as well?"

He nodded. "She would, but I don't think she ever saw the journal. I'm certain she was projecting from what Wilkins had told her happened at Milburn. She didn't have any solid information, or she would have put it out there directly, to provoke me. Instead, she waited for me to admit it, and she held my mother's life hostage to make it happen."

JJ got it now. "She wouldn't have needed your mother, if she knew she had the goods."

"Exactly. Not that she wouldn't have enjoyed torturing me anyway, but she didn't need to."

"So, how are you going to prove that Scratch has seen your journal?"

Reid held up the manila envelope he'd been holding. It had elicited a strange look from the prison guard who had inspected its contents, but Reid had simply stated that it was evidence, and it had been passed through.

"With this." To JJ's puzzled look, he added, "You'll see."

They entered a small meeting room usually reserved for private conversations between an inmate and his attorney. Within a few minutes, the door opened again, and a scowling Peter Lewis entered, followed by two prison guards. As had been prearranged, they secured his legs to the table, which was affixed to the floor, and then freed his hands. Reid's nod of thanks signaled the guards to step back out of the room, and he and JJ took their seats across from the prisoner.

Scratch seemed to realize his scowl was projecting his displeasure at the circumstance, and he made an instantaneous transition of his facies, to a look of superiority and contempt. He didn't need to make the sound. JJ and Reid both heard the silent cackle.

"Dr. Reid, Agent Jareau. I see you've recovered nicely from our little tete-a-tete of yesterday. What a pity."

"We're not here to talk about that. There's something I want to know," demanded Reid.

"Well, now, I'm intrigued that a genius would say such a thing. I thought your knowledge was inexhaustible, Dr. Reid. What could you possibly need to learn from me?"

"I want you to tell me what you know about my time in prison, and how you came to know it."

Scratch looked as though he was about to refuse, but then he stopped and considered his options. He nodded his head in JJ's direction.

"Are you sure you want Agent Jareau to hear all of this? It's hardly flattering."

JJ spoke up, defensive of her best friend.

"There's nothing you can say that will change my opinion of Dr. Reid. He has always been, and remains, one of the best people I know."

Reid flashed an appreciative look in her direction, but quickly returned his attention to Scratch.

"There's nothing you can say that Agent Jareau doesn't already know. We don't keep secrets from one another."

"Hmm. Maybe you should."

The two BAU agents looked at one another, and then back to Scratch. Reid spoke for both of them.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Scratch shifted his gaze back and forth, between the two.

"I believe you are married, are you not, Agent Jareau?"

JJ was angry that he should bring her personal life into it.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Does your husband know about your…relationship…. With Dr. Reid?"

Reid felt JJ stiffen beside him. Under the table, he laid a hand on her knee, to stay her response. Scratch had given him an opportunity, and Reid intended to take it.

"Leave Agent Jareau out of it. Haven't you done enough damage to her family, by taking her son?" Steering the conversation.

"Ah, yes. Young Master Henry. I wonder, Agent Jareau...does Henry draw pictures of your husband, as well as he does of Dr. Reid? And the little pseudo-family you have together?"

JJ flashed a glance at Reid, looking for direction. She had no idea what Scratch was getting at, but the look of triumph on his face told her that Reid did.

 _Okay, my friend. I trust you. I'm willing to see how this plays out._

Reid leaned forward in his seat, bringing his face closer to Scratch's.

"What pictures?

Scratch cackled again. "Don't play coy with me, Dr. Reid. You and I….and the lovely Agent Jareau here, all know that she brought you a gift, when she saw you in prison. A lovely drawing, of you ….and another man's family."

JJ bit her cheeks, intent on keeping her mouth closed, despite the felon's unflattering insinuation.

Reid made no such effort. "You saw the drawing?"

"Of course not. Inmates aren't permitted to retain gifts from their visitors. The drawing left with Agent Jareau."

"So you know what happened at the visit?"

"I know a great many things, Dr. Reid."

"How?" Issuing the question rapid-fire, hoping to trip his opponent up.

It almost worked. Scratch opened his mouth as if to answer, but caught himself just in time.

"Now, now, Dr. Reid. Surely you are aware that there is an information pipeline within the federal prison system. How else would we have accomplished what I believe you know as 'The Storm'?"

Reid sat back, masking his disappointment. "So you're telling me that a young child's drawing made the pipeline?"

Scratch paused for a moment, thinking, looking for the trap that he assumed was there, but not finding it.

Reid took the opportunity to open the manila envelope beside him, and reach inside.

"Why," he asked, as he pulled it out, "would anyone be talking about something so simple as this?"

He retrieved the drawing Henry had made, a representation of a glorious day together in a park.

Scratch looked at the drawing, confused.

"What's that?"

JJ looked just as confused, but for a different reason.

 _What's this about, Spence?_

Reid responded to Scratch. "This is the drawing Henry made. The one Agent Jareau brought to me at Milburn."

Peter Lewis looked angry. "You're trying to deceive me!"

"What do you mean? This is the drawing Henry made. Hardly a pseudo-family, with just the two of us in it. Well, unless you count the butterfly."

Scratch was angry at Reid's obvious derision. He lashed out.

"You're lying! This isn't the drawing! I saw it! She was in it!"

Jabbing a finger in JJ's direction. Reid slammed Scratch's hand down on the table.

"Where did you see it? How?"

"Don't try to play me for a fool! You copied it into your journal!"

Reid sat motionless, his eyes wide and staring intently into those of the felon across from him. JJ's eyes were wide as well, as she gradually put the pieces together inside her head.

Peter Lewis' eyes shifted rapidly back and forth, as he tried to understand where things had gone wrong. As he tried to determine _what_ , exactly, had gone wrong.

Reid came to his aid. "You saw my reproduction of Henry's drawing, in my journal."

The serial killer tried to regather himself. "Your version of the drawing was very telling. It included yourself, and Henry, yes. But also Agent Jareau, here, and her other son. It was a lovely little family portrait."

Reid ignored the implication. "How did you come to see my drawing? Who gave you my journal?"

Scratch's eyes narrowed. "Is that what this is all about? That I saw your journal?"

His long practice as a member of the BAU and his expertise in interrogation were both tested, as Reid had to hide his excitement at the admission. Peter Lewis had seen his journal. There was a connection that led directly from the prison, and to the man who had targeted him and his colleagues for years.

 _Now, to find out exactly how direct a route it was._

Reid kept his tone calm, and quiet. "I want to know who gave it to you."

Scratch sat back. "Ah, well. It seems I have a bargaining chip, don't I?" Leaning in, over the table. "What's my incentive to tell you?"

Reid made a show of thinking about it. "Well, let me see. I suppose we could get one of your consecutive life sentences removed. But that's all I can think of."

Scratch was angry. "Not good enough. I want my own cell. Not solitary, just my own cell. And unlimited access to the prison library. And unlimited access to a computer."

Reid almost felt sorry for the man. He understood the need for a genius mind to have constant sources of stimulation, and challenge.

 _That's what his demands are about. He knows he'll never leave here. He just doesn't want to go crazy. Crazier._

"I can't make any promises. But, if you tell me what I want to know, I can make a recommendation."

Not specifying what that recommendation would be.

Scratch didn't look happy with the proposition, and spent a long time considering it. So long, that Reid was prompted to add something, taking an educated stab in the dark. If he was going to make a deal with the devil, he wanted it to be fruitful.

"I know you got it from Axelrod. I want to know who gave it to him."

That brought Scratch out from his internal dialogue. "Axelrod? That toady? I didn't get the journal from him."

"You didn't?"

"I only deal with the top, Dr. Reid. You disappoint me. I thought you would know that."

"The top?" JJ was back in the conversation. "The top of the NSA?" Incredulity in her tone.

"Who else would be better positioned to look out for my interests?"

Reid studied their adversary, and reached a conclusion.

"You're lying. You'd like us to think it goes all the way to the top, because that would give you some degree of prestige, in a twistedly criminal sort of way. But no, I think you got it from Axelrod. I just want to know how he got it."

Scratch's lips assembled themselves into a derisive grin.

"Surely you don't think I researched the provenance of your pathetic little memoir, Dr. Reid. It was simply an opportunity that presented itself, and I took advantage of it."

"So you don't know how Axelrod got it?"

"It amuses me that you are so certain I would tell you, if I did."

Reid had now given Scratch two additional opportunities to deny that he'd gotten the journal from Axelrod, and he hadn't done so. That meant they now knew the final portion of the pathway.

Or maybe not. Reid addressed his enemy again.

"Where is my journal now?"

Scratch made a show of lifting both palms up, obviously empty.

"Does it look like I have it?"

Reid was annoyed. "I didn't ask if you had it. I want to know who does."

Peter Lewis shrugged. "Sorry, Dr. Reid. But, don't worry. I'm sure it will turn up somewhere. Like in the hands of a federal prosecutor, perhaps? There has to be one salivating at the chance to prosecute a federal agent for attempted murder."

JJ sprang to Reid's defense, despite her best intention to remain silent.

"He didn't try to kill anyone!"

"Didn't he? Perhaps you'd like to read Dr. Reid's journal when it shows up again. Read Dr. Reid. What a fateful ring that has to it!"

Reid stared him down.

"I think we're done here. You've told me what I need to know."

Lewis looked momentarily disconcerted, but rallied himself.

"I've told you nothing. Which is exactly what you deserve."

* * *

They left the prison in silence, waiting until they were in the protection of Reid's car before speaking.

"I wish I could throttle him," sniped JJ.

Reid looked over to her and smiled. "I think you'd have to get in line for that."

"Seriously, Spence….is he right about the federal prosecutor thing? I mean, if your journal turns up, could it put you in danger?"

Reid could only shrug. "I don't think so, but I can't be sure of it. It tells what I did, but it also tells why I did it, and there was no intent for serious harm. I was just trying to neutralize the threat to myself….and to neutralize the drug, for that matter."

"Okay, that makes me feel better."

"Not to mention that we now have a connection linking the journal, the NSA and a convicted serial killer, who had more opportunity to kill because the NSA protected him. I can't imagine anyone will want to resurrect that part of the story."

"Even better, then. Thank God."

"JJ…" "Spence…"

They spoke simultaneously. He played the gentleman.

"You first."

JJ turned in her seat, so that she was facing him.

"What did he mean about the drawing?"

Reid looked away from her, but her eyes drew him back in, as they always did.

"It wasn't meant to be what he said. But he's right, I did change it. I mean, I added to it. I took your advice, and my eidetic memory helped me recreate Henry's picture exactly as he'd drawn it. But my memory also gave me the things Henry hadn't captured from that day. You remember, don't you? You had Michael in a stroller, and the four of us were headed to the playground. I can still picture it in my mind, exactly as I saw it. You, Mikey, Henry, all reflecting the sunshine in your hair. And on your faces. It made me happy to remember it, and there was precious little to be happy about in there. So, after I copied Henry's picture into my journal, I added you and Mikey to it."

JJ had trouble finding her voice. "You told Clare that Henry's picture helped you get through it all. Did you mean…."

"I meant both things. The fact that he drew it for me, and how that reminded me of how loved I am. But I had to give that version up. It was my own version that I visited with every day after that. You all got me through, JJ. There's no doubt in my mind that I wouldn't have made it without knowing you were all out here. Without feeling like I had something to come back to. And that I had the responsibility to try."

A few stray tears tracked down her cheeks. "Then I'm glad. And I'm not going to let that monstrosity in there taint it for me."

"Nor me." He stretched out a palm, and she took it, squeezing her love into it.

"So, what do we do next?" Trusting that he had a plan.

He did. "We take it back to Emily. She may have to call in a few favors, or get Cruz to do so, but we need to know how the journal made it to the NSA. I think Scratch is right about one thing. Axelrod is a toady. He was just carrying out orders. We need to know who was giving them."


	46. Chapter 46

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 46**_

They'd finished sooner than expected but, having already declined Clare for the night, Reid decided to visit the other woman in his life. As he drove there, he noted that it seemed like months since he'd been to Mountain Laurel, considering how many things had transpired in the interim, but it had been under a week since he'd last seen his mother. Which again seemed like months, once he found Diana in her room.

Her hair and clothing were disheveled, the sheets of her bed equally so. Seeing the state of her, he began to worry that he'd made a mistake in placing her in the memory care center, whose staff appeared to have been neglecting her.

"Mom?"

Frightened eyes raised to his.

"Stay away from me! I'll tell my son!"

Her hands tore at her clothing and rifled through her hair. The state she was in had obviously been self-induced. Reid hit the call button, anticipating the need for back up in preventing Diana from hurting herself.

"Mom, it's me. It's Spencer. I _am_ your son."

She was too agitated to hear him, let alone to process his words. Seeing, he threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and backed off, hoping it would calm her enough to not hurt herself.

"I need my son! Spencer!"

He felt like he was reliving some of the worst moments of his childhood. Back then, he'd been frightened for himself, when she'd been in one of her 'episodes' as she'd always called them. Now, he was simply heartbroken to witness her own fear.

An aide ran into the room, followed immediately by one of Diana's usual nurses, Joanne. Reid immediately began apologizing, even realizing how irrational it was for him to do so.

"She doesn't recognize me, and it's frightening her. I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do."

Joanne had gone directly to Diana, and placed herself in the woman's line of sight. Having gotten her attention, she started singing softly to Diana, a song Reid recognized from his childhood. He remembered that he'd been asked for that kind of information when his mother had first come to Mountain Laurel. At the time, he'd thought they were just trying to get a sense of what types of entertainment his mother might enjoy.

 _But now I get it. They were looking for ways to connect to her. Things that would be in her long term memory._

Which was the last to go, in most cases of dementia. Reid marveled when Diana seemed to respond to the calming maneuver. Once her patient had quieted, Joanne turned to Reid, and winked.

"Oh, look, Diana….Spencer's here. Your son has come to visit you."

She moved out of the way, so that Diana could see.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?"

He'd been ready to declare a miracle, until that remnant of her dementia showed itself.

"I just came to visit you, Mom. If that's all right with you. Is it okay if I stay for a little while?"

Diana still seemed confused. But a look toward Joanne, and a nod from the nurse, seemed to put her at greater ease.

"All right. I'd like that."

Joanne rose from the bed, and made her way by Reid, nodding him toward the door with her.

"I think you dropped your keys when you walked past the nurses' station, Dr. Reid. Why don't you come with me for a minute, and get them?"

Reid looked from Joanne to Diana, and put up a finger.

"I'll be back in one minute, Mom." Then, remembering an old joke between them, he added, "Fifty-three seconds."

The second tweak of her memory resulted in a smile.

"I'll start counting."

A few steps down the hallway, Joanne explained.

"She's actually been pretty good, until today. Not always oriented, but pleasant, and enjoying her reading. Today, she was combative from the time she got up. It could be that she didn't sleep well, or it could just be the illness. We don't have that much experience with dually diagnosed patients like your mother. But it's not uncommon for someone with Alzheimer's to have fairly rapid swings in their sensorium. I think, for someone with underlying schizophrenia, it might be more likely to present as paranoia."

"So, she didn't recognize me because of the Alzheimer's, and it frightened her because of the schizophrenia?"

Joanne shrugged. "Or it could all be the Alzheimer's. We see it often enough. I'm just anticipating that we might see it more with your mother."

Reid nodded his understanding. "You worked a miracle in there with that song. I've read about it before, that we store music memory differently, but I've never seen it in person."

She smiled. "It is pretty remarkable, isn't it? The human brain is a fascinating organ, even when it's not functioning well."

Reid had to squelch the temptation to offer a mini-lecture on the truly fascinating qualities of the human brain. He only had fifty-three seconds, after all.

"Yes."

* * *

The following morning, Emily convened the team as soon as they arrived. She asked Reid to give them the same update he'd given her the evening before. By prearrangement, it was an edited version. Emily didn't believe it was necessary for the entire team to know all of the details of Reid's prison stay.

As he concluded, she surveyed the team for their responses. Not surprisingly, Rossi was the first to chime in.

"I'm in the 'Axelrod is a toady' camp. I knew that guy way back when. We were part of a task force with the NSA and even the CIA, as I recall. Hotch was part of it, too. I think that's how he knew to contact Axelrod when Scratch started inducing his foster siblings to commit murder. Guy was a boot licker then, and I doubt things have changed."

"Any idea who he's a toady for?" asked Alvez.

Rossi shrugged. "On an organizational chart, he's probably row four or five. Lot of brass above him."

"Row four," offered their tech analyst. "I looked it up last night." When Prentiss nodded the go-ahead, Garcia continued. "Emily asked me to find out what I could, so I let my little baby bots out to do their thing. Considering where they were doing it, I needed to watch over them. My dear frat boys and sorority sisters, I haven't pulled an all-nighter since college, but considering this was for my sweet baby boo genius…"

Said sweet baby boo genius interrupted her. "It's not just for me, Garcia. He hurt a lot of people. And we can't afford to risk him hurting more."

Emily wanted to move the conversation forward.

"Did you find anything, Garcia?

"Right. Back to business. So, I found that two of the people….who are all males, by the way. Does that mean the NSA doesn't think a woman can keep a secret? Because…."

"Pen…" JJ gently prodded her friend back on track. "We need to know if there's anything pointing at someone giving Axelrod orders."

Alvez tried to help. "Is there anyone with enough resources to pay him off? If the prison guard received a large sum of money for the journal, could it have come from Axelrod, or someone above him?"

Garcia was peeved. "Thank you so much, SSA Alvez. This graduate of 'Born Yesterday University' would never have thought of that."

Brows rose around the table, as Alvez apologized. "Nothing intended, Penelope."

The tech analyst blushed. "No, it's me who should apologize. Told you I wasn't good at all-nighters. So, I found that two of the people above Axelrod, a deputy director and an executive director-please don't ask me the difference…. are independently wealthy. The executive director was a political appointee, the deputy director rose through the ranks, but had a military career, and a book deal, before that."

Prentiss was encouraged. "So, either of them could have paid off the prison guard, or Axelrod, or both?"

Garcia hesitated. "They could have paid off the guard, and if they did, they hid it as well as only the NSA can hide it. I caught the deposit into his account, but I still can't trace where it came from."

Rossi saw an opportunity to soothe frayed nerves. "Well, if you can't find it, Penelope, it can't be found. And I agree with you, only the NSA could pull that off."

The tech analyst sat up a little straighter in her chair. "Thank you, Rossi. I'm afraid I have more bad news, though. Our friend Axelrod hasn't struck it rich at all, not back when Scratch first showed up, and not now. It doesn't look like he's been paid off at all."

Emily frowned. "So, maybe he's not the mole we think he is." Addressing her next words to Reid. "You only surmised that Axelrod was involved, based on Scratch not contradicting you. Could Scratch have been playing you?"

JJ and Reid exchanged a look, non-verbally consulting with one another. Then JJ spoke up.

"I was pretty much an observer for the whole exchange, so I was able to watch Scratch pretty closely. I think Spence called it right. I think Axelrod is involved."

"So how do we reconcile this?" Tara wanted to be practical.

There was silence around the table for a few seconds, broken by Reid.

"What about something that didn't happen?"

Rossi sent one brow skyward. "Explain, please." Long experience telling him that Reid would have a good reason.

"What I mean is, instead of a payoff to Axelrod, what if his reward was that he was protected from something? We're postulating that there's someone in a position of power at the NSA behind this. What if that person kept Axelrod from experiencing some kind of consequence to something?"

"A payoff that wasn't technically a payoff." Emily liked the idea.

"Exactly," said Reid. "Garcia, can you look at Axelrod's file? See if there's some sort of policy violation, some penalty he wasn't required to serve."

Rossi spoke up. "Well, we know of one policy violation, don't we? He was Hotch's source when we had the original Peter Lewis case. We weren't supposed to know about Lewis, and yet, we arrested him. Someone from the NSA must have realized they had a leak."

Reid agreed, enthused. "Garcia, start with that time period, through my release from prison. Will you be able to tell if something has been deleted?"

"Oh, mon cheri, I specialize in finding things that aren't there. But I've never done it with an NSA file before."

JJ, well experienced in federal paperwork, found a reason to be optimistic. "They're probably not as cryptic with their HR files, Pen. If it's there, you'll find it."

* * *

Reid was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice the sensuous aroma wafting in his direction from the mug JJ had just placed on his desk.

"Hey, you. Where's your brain gone off to?"

"Huh? Oh, thanks. I was just thinking about getting some."

She laughed. "You were daydreaming so deeply about coffee?"

Knowing better, and sensing a story, she perched herself on the edge of his desk. Reid recognized the familiar position of expectancy, and smiled. JJ might not always appreciate his ramblings on esoteric subjects, but she was always, always, attentive when she guessed he needed to talk. Which she had obviously just done. And so, he did.

"No, of course not. I was just thinking about my mom." He told her what had happened at Mountain Laurel the day before. "It was frightening, and then fascinating. I mean, she's dissociated before, when I was young. She didn't know me then, either. But this was different. And to see her brought out of it with music….it was amazing! I'd read about it before, in passing. But last night I read through all of the latest research on it. And it got me thinking about the possibilities, and what might be done, and …."

JJ saw the light in his eyes dim ever so slightly, and knew, instinctively, why.

"And you realized that there's not enough time."

He nodded, a wistful look on his face. "Sometimes I wish I'd done something different with my life. I remember telling Emily, once, that I used to think I would find a way to cure schizophrenia, that I had the intelligence to do it. But my life took a different path, and I never even worked on it at all. Now…"

"Spence, you can't be feeling guilty about that. Please tell me you aren't."

"No, it's just…"

"Because you know you can't do everything. I mean, if anyone could, it would be you. But you can't. You might not have found a cure for schizophrenia, but you've impacted countless lives by working with the team."

"I know. It's just so immediate with my mom now, you know? Not that it wasn't that way all my life. I guess I just wasn't mature enough to put my own discomfort aside to think about what she needed."

His best friend gave Reid a look of disbelief.

"I know you don't mean that. Or should I say, you'd better not mean that. Seriously, Spence, you can't be feeling guilty about what your mom's going through. I know it's painful to watch, and it's got to be painful to feel, especially when she's frightened of you. I can't even imagine."

"I hope you never have to."

"Amen to that. I'm so sorry, Spence. Letting go is never easy."

JJ stood and hugged him from behind his chair, speaking into his ear.

"Listen, I hold your mind in awe, and I would never tell you not to use it for something good. I just want to make sure you're not carrying a burden that's not yours to carry. That's your exhaustion talking. I'll bet you barely slept after our run-in with Scratch, and now you've been up all last night doing research. Why don't you go home and get some sleep? Garcia is trying to tiptoe through NSA records, and it's taking forever. There probably won't be any news until tomorrow, anyway. And, if there is, I'll swing by your place and get you."

It did sound enticing, and it was already mid-afternoon. Maybe he could leave early. But he wasn't going home.

"I won't be at my place. I'll be at Clare's."

JJ let go of him and walked around to see his face. Her own reflected a combination of hope, and happiness, and just a touch of poignancy.

"You'll be at Clare's? All night?"

Reid blushed. "For dinner. She's cooking."

JJ shook off an annoying hint of regret and focused on her best friend. Doing so made her grin.

"Spence, that's great. Clare's great. Probably not as great a cook as I am, but we can't all be, can we?"

He laughed, as she'd intended. "Well, maybe you'll have to share your recipes."

"Never." She spun him in his chair so that he was facing away from his desk. "Go. Be with Clare. I'll call you if something comes up."

He heaved a sigh. "All right. Thanks. See you in the morning?"

"Absolutely." _And not a minute before, my friend. Moles can wait. Love can't._

From her desk, JJ watched as Reid packed his messenger bag, waved a goodbye, and left the bullpen.

Then she brushed a single tear from her left eye.

 _Letting go is never easy._


	47. Chapter 47

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 47**_

He'd stopped for wine on the way over and, having spotted the florist next door, arrived to Clare's with a small handful of yellow roses, a bottle of cabernet, and a hefty dose of exhaustion.

The wine and flowers earned him a kiss, and the rest an exclamation.

"Wow. And I thought _I'd_ had a long day!"

"It wasn't so much the day, as the night before. I used to be able to get by on less sleep, but not so much anymore. I must be getting old."

"Why? What happened last night?" Concerned for him, after the fact.

Reid followed her to the kitchen, where she put the roses into a vase. When she handed him a corkscrew, he got to work on the wine bottle.

"Nothing happened. I was just up doing research, and I didn't realize how late it was."

She put two glasses on the counter next to him, and watched as he decanted the wine.

"Well, you do have a tendency to get lost in your work."

She'd seen it happen any number of times, as he'd screened IP cases.

"It wasn't exactly work."

His tone held an element of sadness, which cued her to think of his mother. She picked up both of their glasses and led him to the sofa.

"Were you at Mountain Laurel?"

"Not last night. But I went there in the afternoon." At her look of encouragement, he continued, telling her about what had happened during the visit. "So I spent most of the night researching what's known about how the brain is mapped, and how it processes different types of information. Most of it wasn't new to me, but I haven't really looked at it beyond how it pertains to psychopathy since I started with the BAU. Now it's time for me to go back and look at how memories are stored and accessed, how new information is encoded, what goes wrong when, and where, and how and in whom…."

"Whoa." She put up a hand to stop him. "That's more than a lifetime's work, Spencer. And you already have a job. Two, if you count working with me at IP. Still, I don't think I've seen you this excited about something since I've met you. Are you really thinking of taking this on?"

He deflated pretty quickly. "No. I think. Maybe. I don't know. I mean, I know I don't have any experience in the field, and I don't have a means of actually doing a scientific study of any substance. But…I just need to think about it. Emphasis on 'think'."

She nodded, smiling. "With a mind like yours, maybe that's all you really need to do. I mean, maybe it's like with us. If you find the right partner, maybe all you really need to do is the intellectual work."

The tilt of his head told her he was considering her idea. The light in his eyes told her it was a favorable consideration.

"You know…"

"Yes, I know. I'm right."

He laughed. "You sound pretty confident, there."

"Well, it's worked for IP. Why couldn't it work in some medical research lab?" Responding to his reaction, she added, "Not that they're all that comparable. But you get it."

"I do. And I think you're right. In fact, I probably even have a few names I can reach out to. I researched it as much as possible when Mom was diagnosed. That's how I found out about Nadie Ramos."

"Who?"

Reid was briefly taken aback. He'd begun to feel so close with Clare and, even if not by his choice, he'd been more revealing of himself and his circumstances than he could remember being with anyone other than JJ. Her question served as a reminder that there was still much that he hadn't shared with her, some of it painful. He could only wonder if the same would prove true of Clare.

But what he really had to wonder was whether he had the courage to revisit those parts of his life with her. It wouldn't have been a difficult question for a much younger Reid. He'd have known immediately that he couldn't do it. But he'd grown, and matured, and endured so much in the intervening years. It now came to him as a choice. And he surprised himself by making it.

He laid his wineglass on the table and leaned back on the sofa, turning his body to face hers.

"Nadie Ramos was the woman I was accused of killing, in Mexico."

The statement startled Clare. Although it had only been a few months, it seemed like much longer ago, and she'd nearly forgotten the details of how she'd come to know about the man sitting across from her. He'd long since become a trusted colleague, and friend. Over the time they'd known one another, he begun to inhabit an increasingly larger portion of her thoughts, and her heart. And, just recently, he'd also become her hero. So she was surprised to be reminded that she'd first become aware of him because he'd been arrested for murder.

"Oh!" Then, realizing her reaction, and seeing how he'd reacted to her exclamation, she immediately felt a need to mitigate it. Her brain frantically rewound the conversation, until she could find a new direction for it. "You knew her because of Alzheimer's? Because of your mother?"

As much as he realized they would need to talk all of this through one day, Reid was simply too tired to attempt it tonight. So he accepted the redirection.

"Yes. She was a physician, and she'd been doing research on the use of some naturopathic therapies for Alzheimer's. They sounded promising to me….. or maybe I'd just given up on finding something conventional, I don't know ….but I met with her, and she gave me some samples to try with my mom."

"Did they work?"

He stared off, remembering. "I don't really know. At first, I thought maybe they were helping, but it could have just been me, wanting to see it so badly. In the end, they didn't get much of a trial, because Mom realized I was giving the syrup to her, and she flushed most of it down the toilet. Then, when I went to Mexico to get more….well, you know."

"Could you still try it?"

He shrugged. "As far as I know, Nadie Ramos was the only one who knew the precise composition of it, and the proportions. I would have to start from scratch."

Clare shivered an involuntary reaction to that final word, and the memory it evoked of her ordeal. Noticing, Reid leaned over and pulled her toward him. Putting his arms around her, he felt her lean into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. It's just a word, and he's just a sick human being, who won't be able to hurt you, or me, or anyone else, ever again."

"No, _I'm_ sorry. That was stupid."

"It wasn't planned, Clare. You can't stop what you can't see coming. But it does seem like you'll need to work through a little desensitization therapy the next time you see Anna Hughes."

She heaved a sigh, leaning more heavily into him, and he tightened his embrace in response. "I guess so."

"I'm sorry you got pulled into it. If I'd thought, for a minute…"

"I volunteered, Spencer. It's my own fault I was there. Although, if it meant that Henry wasn't alone, I'm glad it happened."

He held her away from him, without letting go. He wanted to see her face.

"Really?"

"Of course. He's my little Sir Galahad."

Reid smiled, in appreciation of the sentiment, and of the courage and caring of the woman in his arms.

"You're pretty special, Mary Clare Ryan. Do you know that?"

"Back at you, Spencer Reid."

Usually so fascinated with her eyes, Reid found his attention increasingly drawn to her lips, and to his desire to kiss them. Which he did. Gently, at first, drawing back every so often to look at her, taking in her smile, and the desire in her eyes, which fanned the flame of desire in him. Then the kisses became deeper, and more urgent. To Reid, it felt like they'd become the overture to a symphony he'd been longing to hear.

And then they settled back into sweetness, and comfort, and affection, and the two simply held each other, sitting quietly together on the sofa, nothing ahead of them this night but the sharing of a meal, and the making of music.

* * *

JJ tried to look like she wasn't looking, but she was. She just wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for.

She'd spent part of the night before conversing with herself about the state of her best friend, and her relationship with him, and his obviously blossoming relationship with Clare. She'd even gone so far as to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, diving deep into her own eyes, to confront whatever truth she might find there. But it wasn't anything she didn't already know.

They'd both been so young, when they'd first met, she in her mid-twenties, he barely there. Still, despite the mere two years difference in their ages, she'd felt maternal towards him. Over time and circumstance, those maternal feelings had grown more fraternal. Somewhere along the way, they'd evolved into the kind of deep friendship that neither of them had been graced with in childhood, he having been deemed too singular, and she having been tainted by the tragedy that had befallen her family.

For the first time in each of their lives, they'd had a friend who loved them unconditionally, who wasn't swayed by the opinions of others. Someone with whom they could be open, and whose support they could always count on. Not that the friendship hadn't been tested, and tried, at times. JJ would forever rue the time she'd tested it, and how badly she'd hurt him in the process. And she would be forever grateful that he'd allowed her to mend that rift.

 _And that you allowed me to be there for you, when you most needed someone. Now… ah, Spence, it's just hard to think that, one day, it won't be me you're reaching out to. Or that I'll feel like I need to ask permission to reach out to you. But, if it's Clare, and I sense that it is….. then I'm going to be happy for you, my friend. It's a choice, after all, isn't it? To be happy? So I choose it for both of us. You, and me. And Clare._

She'd barely gotten there when her keen maternal hearing picked up on the padding of little feet in the hallway. JJ sniffled, took a swipe at her eyes, and opened the door to find a troubled Michael outside.

"What's wrong, little man?"

"Daddy's sleeping in my bed."

"Oh. Isn't there room for both of you?"

"No."

"Okay, let's go see."

She allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom. As she entered, JJ smiled. Will lay in Michael's toddler bed, the book he'd been reading to his son tented across his chest. She stooped to whisper to the little one.

"I think Daddy's too sound asleep. Want to sleep with me tonight?"

Mikey's eyes lit up. "Yeah!" A shouted whisper.

"Okay then," heaving him up, "It's a deal. We'll have our own little sleepover."

As she walked back down the hallway with her sweet burden, JJ passed by Henry's door. She stopped briefly to listen to his soft snoring, and then continued on her way, satisfied that all of her 'boys' were safe and accounted for. The enormous sense of contentment it brought settled the matter for her, regarding her best friend.

 _I want this for you, Spence. I want you to know what this feels like. So, if Clare is the one, I'm going to celebrate what you've found, and not focus on what I've lost. I choose it._

That had been her internal dialogue the night before. The morning after, she was watching her best friend for some hint of how his evening had gone. Was there a spring in his step? A lightness to his features? Was she reading into it?

"Hey, Spence. How was your night? Did you finally get some sleep?"

"I did. I honestly can't remember the last time I felt this good."

JJ tilted her head at him, smiling. "Might your dinner date have had something to do with that?"

He blushed, but returned the smile. "It might."

"Good. I'm glad."

She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary, making sure he knew she was truly happy for him. When he gave a small nod of thanks, she rose and motioned for him to follow.

"Come on, let's go find out what Garcia came up with. I'd thought we would hear from her last night."

"Maybe the NSA has better security than she thought."

They found her curled up on a small sofa in her computer lair, softly snoring.

Reid was hesitant. "Should we wake her or let her sleep?"

"Hmm. If she had news, she would have called us. Maybe we should let her sleep."

Reid began studying the various screens. "It looks like she got in. But there are thousands of names here."

JJ joined him at the screens. "Maybe she was trying to make it look like a routine scan. You know, running everyone, while she was only really interested in Axelrod."

"Ah...Ahem."

They turned quickly around, Reid with his hands up. "We didn't touch anything!"

Garcia sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes before fumbling for her glasses.

"What are you two doing here so late?"

The two BAU agents exchanged a smile, before JJ answered their friend.

"Penelope, it's morning. You were here all night."

"I was? I was!" She quickly inserted herself into her desk chair and began tapping at her keyboard. "This should be done then. Oh, okay, a few more 'Z's. left."

"But Axelrod starts with 'A',"said Reid, helpfully. "Don't you already have his information?"

"Yes, Agent Sesame Street, I know it starts with 'A'. But I can't touch any of the data until all of it is run. I'm still connected to their servers, and they'll be able to see what I'm doing."

"I didn't know it worked that way," said Reid.

"It doesn't, for the rest of the world. But I'm not taking any chances with the NSA." Then she apologized to him. "I'm sorry, I'm just crabby when I don't get to sleep in my own bed."

"No worries," assured Reid. _That's funny._ _I didn't get to sleep in my own bed last night, and it didn't make me crabby at all._ "So, can we look yet?"

Garcia squinted at her screens, which seemed to be slowing down in their accumulation of information. "I think…..yes! Now, we can look."

Her fingers flew across her keyboard as she isolated Axelrod's information from the rest of the download. Then, without being asked, she printed out the twenty-five pages of the report, and handed them to Reid.

As JJ and Garcia looked over his shoulders, Reid went through the report, most of which seemed to consist of annual reviews. The genius' fingers traced rapidly down page after page, looking for something unusual. When he'd reviewed the final page, the three of them exchanged glances.

"Nothing?" Garcia wanted to verify what it looked like.

"Nothing," said Reid.

Smiles all around.

"All right, then," said Garcia, already back at her keyboard. "We know there should have been some kind of notation, a reprimand, something, from when Axelrod gave the information on Scratch to Hotch. Since I downloaded everything….and I do mean everything…. I should be able to search for a deletion from his record, _and_ find a time stamp for it."

"What about a source?" Reid knew that was the critical information.

"I can trace it back as far as a password. But I can't tell you who the password belongs to. That would require infiltrating the security IT office at our national security IT agency, and I'm afraid I'm not good enough for that, sweet genius. Even the great and powerful Garcia has her limitations."

Reid thought about it for a minute. "Can you tell us what the password is?"

"I can see the keystrokes, yes. But how will that help?"

JJ had been watching Reid think, and it was almost as if he'd telegraphed the idea.

"We can profile the password!"

Reid nodded. "I hope. Maybe. I mean, even people in the NSA have to use passwords they can easily remember, right?"

There was excitement in Garcia's voice. "Especially at the top! The brass deals with administrative stuff, not with security. And most of them were appointees. They didn't exactly rise through the ranks."

"True. But, of the two most likely….the ones you found for us yesterday, who were directly over Axelrod, one was an appointee, and one did rise through the ranks," reminded Reid.

JJ thought it through. "So, is it as simple as seeing how strong the password is? If it's weak, it's our appointee, and if it's strong, it's our rank and file guy?"

"It might be," agreed Reid. "But we should probably have more to go on. Garcia, can you dig into their backgrounds?"

"Already done, my love. I had to have something to do while my bots worked their magic."

She handed Reid two file folders. "This is everything that's known outside the NSA. Not so much on our rank-and-file guy, because, you know, he works for the NSA. But I can start compiling on him now, from the download. The other guy was corporate before he was NSA. There's a lot more, but it's mostly all business articles, and a few mentions from the society pages."

"Okay, thanks. We'll take what we have to Emily and the team. You'll bring the rest when you have it?"

"Oui, bien sur!"

* * *

Emily gathered the team into the conference room so that Reid and JJ could update all of them at once.

"My money's on the corporate guy," said Alvez.

"Really?" Tara wasn't so sure. "I don't know. I agree that there's a narcissism evident in his actions, but that's not limited to the corporate world. Rank-and-file usually doesn't have it as a fundamental character trait, but our NSA man didn't remain rank-and-file. It takes a certain amount of ego to climb the ladder."

"But ego doesn't always translate as narcissism," reminded Rossi. "There are plenty of humanitarians who were able to accomplish what they accomplished by sheer power of ego."

Tara conceded the point. "But true narcissists can't see that. They suspect ulterior motives in people who claim to be doing things for the benefit of others."

Emily brought them back. "We're veering a little off topic, aren't we?"

Reid disagreed. "Maybe not. But we're probably describing the real mover behind all of this."

"Scratch," finished JJ.

"Exactly. He's a traumatized narcissist, which makes him among the most vicious."

Rossi expanded on it. "A traumatized, _genius_ narcissist, which makes him the most dangerous. He found a way to manipulate someone…..maybe a few 'someones' within the NSA….and look at the havoc he's wreaked, just within our team. We need to find the bastard who facilitated him before Scratch has a chance to start manipulating his way out of it."

Luke Alvez sighed. "I don't know why they didn't just kill him. I mean, they had him, he was in prison. It's not that difficult to set someone up inside the walls."

They'd all thought it, even if Luke was the only one to voice it.

"How do we know they didn't try?" asked Tara. "Maybe he manipulated his fellow prisoners, just like he manipulated the NSA."

It hit Rossi all at once. "The Storm."

"What?" asked Emily, unfamiliar with the term.

"The release of all those serial killers," explained Luke. "That's how I got involved with the team. I was on the fugitive task force."

Reid was on board with the idea. "They were all released at once, from a number of different prisons. Some of the most prolific serial killers then in custody. They never found out how it was accomplished. But I'll bet Scratch was somehow involved."

"He would have had to be given computer access, though," said JJ. "Who, in their right mind, would have done that?"

Rossi snorted. "I don't think we're dealing with 'right minds' here."

Reid had an idea. "Maybe it was a dead man's switch. You know, something he'd already created from the outside, held in abeyance by him, until he wasn't free to hold it any longer. Then it activated, and freed him."

Personally acquainted with the diabolical mind of their nemesis, Tara agreed with the possibility. "We already know he communicated with people on the outside, directly and indirectly. He could have had one of them release the switch."

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of their excited tech analyst.

"The password is 'ConeOf$ilence72'!"

Rossi rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of….."

JJ was unfamiliar. "Does that mean something to you?"

"You know, from 'Get Smart'," offered Luke. "The movie."

Rossi cleared his throat. "Some of us were around for the original TV show, young 'un. Like me….and our former corporation head. What's his name, Garcia?"

"William Booker."

"Something tells me Mr. Booker is about to get booked," quipped Alvez.

But Emily brought them up short.

"Guys, this is great work. But the BAU isn't charged with policing federal agencies. This is going to have to go up the line, and back down again, to the right unit. I'll need to take it to Cruz."

There was a thrum of dissatisfaction, even though they all knew she was right. Then Garcia brought up a crucial point.

"Um…Emily? Ma'am? We didn't exactly get our evidence through conventional means. Will I be in trouble?"

Without that evidence, nothing pointed to Booker. But to reveal how they'd obtained it would put Garcia…..and the case….at risk. No matter the personal cost to him, Reid wasn't about to have one of his friends pay a price that didn't need to be paid.

"Maybe we have to let it go." When the others started to protest, he added, "It's okay. I guess I just needed to know. So, now I do. Booker deleted the citation against Axelrod to hide the fact that the NSA had known about Scratch all along. When Scratch wanted to go after me using my journal, he got Axelrod to give it to him. We've already figured that the prison warden had to have been involved. He probably gave the journal to Axelrod."

"Oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god!" shrieked Garcia. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you this! The whole ConeOf$ilence /Get Smart thing threw me off! Here's the thing: Booker didn't delete the item from Axelrod's file. Peter Lewis did. He used Booker's access, but it was him, I'm sure of it. When he was snooping around in our FBI files a few years ago, he left a signature, a way of doing things. Almost like a handwriting sample. That same signature was used in Axelrod's file."

"You can tell all that from a deletion?" Tara was doubtful.

Garcia was insistent. "I used the term 'delete' because it's familiar. But not to us in the coding world. To us, there's 'delete' and 'obfuscate' and 'annihilate' and a host of other words and techniques. I'm telling you, Peter Lewis used William Booker's password to remove information from Axelrod's file."

Rossi stroked his goatee. "So, now we have a known serial killer nosing around in the files of our National Security Agency. It's beginning to sound more like a BAU case, isn't it?"

Reid was encouraged, but only minimally. "Still using information obtained without a warrant or a subpoena."

JJ had a thought. "We've been assuming that Axelrod was the mole searching through our FBI travel files to find to find out that Reid was by himself. But what if it was Scratch? What if he used Booker's password more than once? Didn't we say that the NSA can get into any government files it wants?"

Garcia's eyes brightened. "So maybe Scratch went into the FBI database under Booker's ID, and it all looked legit."

Emily liked that idea. "Look for it, Garcia. If we can put Booker into our files, we can trace him back into the NSA system. It will still be shaky, but I'm willing to try selling that as a reason for us to look around at his electronic activity within the NSA."

"Aye, aye, sir! I mean, ma'am! On my way!"


	48. Chapter 48

_**Broken**_

 _ **Chapter 48**_

In the end, it required some finessing from the BAU's section chief, but the hierarchy of the FBI decided they were willing to back up their agency's looking into possible malfeasance within another. The FBI was, after all, the nation's last stand against internal treachery. After that, things moved quickly, and the team could virtually hear the tumblers falling into place.

The NSA had blown it with Peter Lewis, their policy of keeping company with the nation's most gifted mathematical geniuses having backfired on them. Once they'd realized that, they'd tried to cover it up. But Axelrod's sharing of information with the BAU had subverted that plan, and the NSA, under the corporate 'the CEO is always right' leadership style of William Booker, had tried another tack. They'd simply erased all evidence of having had anything to do with the felon known as Mr. Scratch. Without proof, the FBI hadn't been able to pursue an investigation into the partner government agency, and it seemed as though the NSA had dodged a bullet. Until 'The Storm'.

Peter Lewis' escape from prison had done more than put the public at risk. To William Booker's mind, the real threat had been to the integrity of the NSA's reputation and, by extension, his own. Political ambition prevented him from acknowledging the failure of his leadership. Instead, he'd allowed himself to be coerced into providing Scratch with a means to search the BAU personnel files. Booker had remained silent as Scratch had used that information to threaten the family of Aaron Hotchner, and then seized upon an opportunity in the life circumstance of Spencer Reid.

Confronted with proof of his treachery, Booker had bargained his way out of a serious penalty, making concessions and providing evidence of collusion with the warden at Milburn, who had, in turn, traded a lesser charge for giving up the prison guard who'd assisted Wilkins and who'd given Reid's journal to Scratch.

Mateo Cruz had been only too happy at the chance to restore the sullied reputation of one of his own by proving that he'd been set up via the NSA. As he concluded his meeting with Reid and Emily Prentiss, Cruz placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"That newspaper retraction from a few months ago might have been on page fifteen. But this….this deserves a headline, my friend. If only I could offer it to you."

Reid blushed, embarrassed. "I understand. It wouldn't exactly inspire confidence in our public institutions if people knew how easy it was to compromise them."

"You're a better man than I am, Spencer Reid. I don't think I could keep my head if I thought all of the punishments would be accomplished sub rosa. But that's how the wheels of justice turn in the upper echelons."

Emily snorted. "You mean 'that's how the wheels of justice fall off their axles'. I can't believe Booker is going to get away with a simple agreement to resign."

" _And_ to not hold any other government position, nor to run for public office," corrected Cruz. "And, don't forget, the second prison guard will be charged with accessory to several crimes, including the kidnapping of Mrs. Reid. And the warden has been charged with infringing on a prisoner's rights, by not putting Agent Reid into protective custody."

"What will happen to Scratch?" asked Reid.

Emily knew. "He'll return to federal prison pending trial on the kidnappings. He's already got a life term, but if we're lucky, he'll lose the possibility of parole. That will keep him locked up for the rest of his miserable life."

The idea of a trial didn't sit well with Reid, who didn't want those he cared about put through anything further because of the one, sick individual.

"Are we all through here? There's something I need to do."

* * *

"Ah, Dr. Reid. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The felon's voice carried the tone of malevolent delight that Reid had come to despise.

"I want you to plead guilty."

Scratch narrowed his eyes in surprise.

"What?"

"You heard me. I want you to forego a trial, and plead guilty."

"Really. I see. I suppose you don't want to put poor Clare and young Henry through having to testify. I don't know, Dr. Reid. I was so looking forward to seeing them again. It would be one of the few pleasures I have left in life, you see, watching them as they relive our time together, listening to them as they tell the story of our little party. Why would I want to miss that?"

Reid managed to control his anger, but only barely.

"What will it take?"

"Oh, are we bargaining now? Well, if it's that important to you. Hmm, let me see..."

Long fingers tapping against one another.

"Oh, I've got it! It would be quite a sacrifice on my part, don't you think, if I were to forego the pleasure of watching them relive their ordeal in the courtroom? I would need a fitting substitute. I think...yes! I think I would like the original experience captured for posterity."

"What does that mean?"

"I want you to draw it for me, Dr. Reid. Just like you did that lovely little scene of you visiting a park with another man's wife and children."

"That wasn't…." Annoyed and getting increasingly riled.

"Oh, yes, I know. It was all very innocent, wasn't it? Just like you are. Well, maybe the drawing I want is a bit less …. innocent, shall we say? But it's fair compensation for your request. I'll spend my life in prison regardless. But it would be so very nice to spend it with a remembrance of my last little project. I do have a soft spot for children, and mothers."

Reid leaned across the table, lowering his voice to an angry whisper.

"You're a bastard, Peter Lewis. And I doubt you have a soft spot for anyone but yourself. But, if it will spare the people I love some anguish, I'll give you what you're asking for. _After_ you plead out."

Scratch clapped his long fingers together in glee. "Oh, lovely! What an unexpected surprise!"

* * *

A week later, Reid returned from what he hoped would be his last visit to the federal prison. Dropping his messenger bag on his desk, he fell into his chair and leaned back, feet up, eyes closed, enjoying the lack of stimulus. He felt as though he was floating, relieved of a stifling weight, able to breathe freely for the first time in a very long time.

He might have dozed off in that position, or simply gone into a vegetative state. All he knew was that he roused to the aroma of coffee, wafting from right under his nose.

Reid blinked his eyes open to see the smiling face of his best friend, holding two steaming mugs.

"Thought you could use some."

He brought himself upright, and gratefully accepted the mug, amended to his most recent taste. When JJ held up an additional sugar packet, he declined.

"Leveling off at three, are you?"

He smiled. "I think my dentist will appreciate it. Besides, I have much more sophisticated taste now."

She laughed. "Right. Wasn't that you eating dinosaur chicken nuggets with the boys the other night?"

"I meant, in coffee."

JJ grinned at him. "It feels good to be able to laugh, doesn't it? It seems like it's been forever."

"It _has_ been a long time. But I think the worst is behind us."

JJ agreed. "Did you hear? Peter Lewis took a 'guilty' plea. There won't be a trial, thank God. I was praying that would happen. The last thing I wanted was for Henry to have to face him again at trial."

"Little man's been through enough. There was no way I was going to let him go through more."

JJ narrowed her eyes at him. "What does that mean? Did you have something to do with the plea?"

Reid looked around at the busy bullpen, and decided it was best to take their conversation elsewhere. He motioned JJ upstairs, to the conference room. Once he closed the door behind them, she pushed him on it.

"All right, something's obviously up. What happened? What did you do?"

Reid responded to the tone of caution in her voice.

"Nothing illegal. I just… I made a deal with the devil, I guess you could say."

Eyes wide, JJ demanded to know.

"Spence, are you saying it was you who got him to plead out? How?"

"I just made a bargain with him. I didn't want any of you having to relive what he'd done to you…not Henry, not Clare…and not you. He told me what he wanted, and I gave it to him."

"What could you possibly have had that he would want?"

"A memory. He wanted me to preserve the moment in the laundromat, by drawing it for him."

JJ reacted to the strange, sick symmetry of Scratch having been tripped up by the drawing Reid had done of her, and his demand for the new one.

"I don't think I like the idea of him looking at me, even if it's only a sketch."

Reid grinned. "Don't worry. He won't be."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he forgot how he lost in the laundromat. He forgot I'm a magician."

JJ's mouth fell open, in an amused gape. "Disappearing ink?"

"Special formula. Lasts a full day."

Laughing, JJ threw her arms around her best friend. "Oh, I love you, Spencer Reid!"

He accepted the hug, and drew her closer. "I love you too, Jennifer Jareau. I don't think this day would have come, if not for you. But I think it's over. I mean, I really think it's over."

They leaned back, still in each other's arms.

"It does feel that way, doesn't it? Like we're emerging from some long, terrible nightmare. Like maybe things can get back to normal again."

"A new normal, maybe. I don't know that things will ever be the same again."

She conceded it. "I know. You can't go through what you went through and emerge unchanged. But you're still Spencer Reid. You're still my best friend. You're still the boys' godfather. You can still love who you love. And you can still let us love you."

Remembering a time, shortly after Milburn, when she feared he would not.

"I am, all of those things, and I do love all of you. My life _is_ different now, but I guess that was inevitable no matter what happened. Look at Mom. Even though it's for a difficult reason, I'm lucky to have her nearby, for however long I have her."

"She loves seeing you, period. But she especially loves seeing you happy."

He nodded. "I'm glad she's had the chance to get to know my friends better. And I'll be forever grateful for the care you took of her, when I couldn't."

"It was my privilege, Spence. You're my family. I couldn't have done anything else."

He squeezed her close once more, and then released her.

"I need to go. Clare's got a new IP case she wants me to look at, and then we're going to dinner."

JJ smiled approvingly. "Another difference." Getting a return grin from him. "Tell her I said 'hi'. And maybe we can set up a time for brunch again."

"I will. See you in the morning."

She watched from the window of the conference room as he packed his messenger bag, and hurried out the door, and toward Clare. Then she smiled to herself.

 _I don't think the dentist has anything to do with those three packets, Spence. I think you've found another way to sweeten your life._

* * *

The landscape of northern Virginia blew by him as Reid looked out the window of the train. Despite the feeling of lightness he'd felt earlier, despite what he'd told JJ, his mind went back to the ordeal he'd suffered a few nights ago.

He would comply with his end of the bargain, but he wasn't about to let Scratch see things as he'd seen them that night in the laundromat. The fear, the horror, the helplessness of three people he loved so deeply was indelibly etched into his mind. He would never forget it, but nor would he reveal it to the felon. So he'd decided to mute the expressions in the drawing. But the process of creating it had still required him to revisit that time, and the excruciating details that he would refuse to portray.

In the laundromat, he'd been hyper-focused. Single-minded, intent on saving them, unwilling to permit a single stray thought to intrude on his purpose. But the revisiting of it had been a completely different experience for him. As he'd sketched the scene, he'd felt the fear he hadn't allowed himself to feel in the moment. The anger, the resentment of having been put into that position. Briefly, he'd felt the temptation to regress to his much younger self, the one that had found the world a treacherous place, and relationships things to be avoided, lest they become sources of pain.

But he was no longer that younger self. He'd grown, and matured, and changed in ways too many to articulate. Still, some things remained the same. He still found the world to be a treacherous place. He still found relationships challenging. But he also found them to be sources of fullness, and hope, and healing. Reasons for living. It was true his life would be much less complicated without his mother in it, nor JJ and the boys, nor any of his teammates and friends. Nor Clare. But he also knew that his life would be much lesser, period, without the relationships he'd come to treasure.

So he'd carried out his part of the bargain, sketching those he loved for a man he hated, taking pleasure in knowing that their expressions would dissolve before Scratch's eyes, his final act of protection.

As the train drew near to DC, Reid's mood elevated with the thought of spending the rest of the day with Clare. Over the past few weeks, as he'd found himself wanting to know her more and more deeply, he'd been making his way through the books on her bookshelves. The back row, the deep row, behind the law books. The row where the real Clare lived.

He'd learned much about her, in the things that she treasured. But he'd also learned something about himself. Of all that he'd read, a single paragraph had stood out to him, as though the author had been speaking directly to him. As though she'd known the events of his life, and his frailties. As though she'd known he was on the brink of some huge change. He'd seen her wisdom, and decided to follow her advice.

His eidetic memory brought it back to him, word for word.

 **" _Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up." **_**

 **FINIS**

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* * *

 _ **** Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum**_

 _ **A.N. When I started this story, I thought it would be finished by the time we started season 13 (that's the one after the prison arc). Now we're in the middle of season 14. So much for what I know, but that's what happens when one's writing time shrinks and stories grow. Thanks to all who have hung in there to the end, and especially to the few who have been so generous in sharing their reactions. Special thanks to Spygoose for the Erdrich quote at the end. It was perfect!**_

 _ **There's a lot of story left untold here, which means this universe is ripe for revisiting. But, for now, onward. And Happy New Year!**_


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